


Hell Hath No Fury

by goldenwatcher



Series: Airs from Heaven, or Blasts from Hell [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Decker knows and she's cool okay, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Torture, forced breeding (mentioned), post Lucifer season 3, temptation magic/mind control, throws season 4 out the window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-12-20 23:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenwatcher/pseuds/goldenwatcher
Summary: Mazikeen is sent to collect Azirphale and Crowley to Los Angeles for less-than-clear reasons.  Lucifer seems delighted by the pair; everyone else is waiting to see how it all goes down.  It all seems like a typical attempt by Lucifer to do a 'good deed', heedless of whether or not anyone wanted the deed to be done or how much it stresses out the Armageddon-defeating duo.Something has been waiting for Crowley to reunite with his Master.  Someone has been wrongly punished, and they want their revenge.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a late spring morning and the world was dazzling as the sun rose behind the skyline. Muted shades of blue and purple decorated the world outside of the bookshop, although the windows were barely clear enough to see. The proprietor fussed around the shop, debating whether he would put aside current projects to pursue at a later time and open the shop for the day. He was due to meet his dear friend later, and he wanted time to consider where they might wander off to.

The bells on the door jingled softly, making Aziraphale pause. The shop had been closed all night, and he was quite sure he had locked up. It was also far too early for Crowley to be out of bed yet.

“I’m sorry, we’re cl—“ The rest of the sentence was cut off as the angel turned and was faced with a curved blade less than an inch from his nose. He froze, eyes widening as they crossed to observe the weapon before following the arm to take in the woman holding it. She was lithe, her entire presence screaming of a hunter in such a way that the hair actually stood on the back of Aziraphale’s neck. He had every confidence that she knew exactly what she was doing and would use her dagger without hesitation.

“Oh. I do say.” He pressed his hands to his waistcoat, taken aback.

The woman flipped open a phone and pushed a button, holding it to her ear. Moments passed in tense silence. “Crowley,” she stated into the device, causing Aziraphale to stiffen. “This is Mazikeen of the Lilim. Come to the angel’s bookshop or I gut him.” She hung up the phone then, shockingly, lowered her weapon. The tension bled from her and she turned away, studying the store.

Aziraphale swallowed, his mind carefully turning over what she’d said. He had never heard of the Lilim, but they obviously knew of him as an angel and knew they could use him to bait Crowley. It had been years since the near-miss that was Armageddon. If she was an agent sent by either side, then why had it taken so long for them to act?

“You’re American, then?” he asked, trying to pull himself together.

The woman, Mazikeen, rolled her eyes and glanced away from her bored perusal of his books. “That was your take-away?”

“Well, it doesn’t do to be impolite,” he replied, at a loss of what to do. He needed to find a way to learn what she wanted of Crowley.

Mazikeen’s gaze raked over him in a way that clearly said she was unimpressed. “You’re the angel that stopped the Apocalypse and befriended a demon?” She seemed incredulous.

“None of which requires one to be uncivilized.” Aziraphale cocked his head as he studied her. “You seem to know me. I confess I am unfamiliar with you.”

“I don’t know you,” she corrected. “Nor do I really care to.”

The screeching of tires outside interrupted the conversation. Mazikeen straightened and twirled the curved daggers in her hands, a feral smile of excitement showing off sharp, white teeth. Quietly, Aziraphale picked up a large tome next to him;  _ War and Peace _ , how appropriate.

The door to the shop jerked open and Crowley slithered in, his own teeth bared. For having been woken from sleep, the demon looked remarkably put together, though that might be part of his posturing in front of a threat. No sooner was the door closed again then Crowley’s wings filled the space behind him, sleek black feathers displayed as a threatening show of status.

Mazikeen had already dropped into a fighting stance, daggers ready. “These are demonsteel, Fallen,” she purred gleefully. “You might want to consider your next move carefully.”

“I thought the Lilim never left Hell,” Crowley hissed through clenched teeth. He clearly wanted to get between Mazikeen and Aziraphale but the aisles of the bookshop weren’t wide enough. “Well, not since possessions were forbidden. Boss finally let you out to play?”

“I am Mazikeen, First of Hell’s Torturers and Lucifer’s right hand,” she responded. “I go where he sends me, and he has sent me here.”

Crowley stilled even as a shock of fear slid down Aziraphale’s spine. Still, the dark wings did not lower. “I’m listening,” Crowley said cautiously.

Mazikeen twirled the daggers again and slowly straightened, though she did not put the weapons away. “You are being summoned. You too, angel boy,” she added, turning her head slightly. “So you might want to lower the book before I shred it.”

Aziraphale nearly dropped the novel as both he and Crowley burst into protests.

“Summon  _ me _ ?”

“He’s not a demon--”

“Can he  _ do _ that?”

“-- doesn’t answer to--”

“I never!”

“-- and what do you mean, ‘summon’--”

“He can’t actually do that, can he?”

“-- if he wanted to summon me, why am I not already in Hell?”

“Shut it!” Mazikeen snarled, interrupting the escalating worry and outrage. “You are both hereby summoned to Los Angeles. You,” she pointed one dagger at Crowley, “by Lucifer, and you by Amenadiel.” She slid the other dagger toward Aziraphale.

The angel froze. “Amenadiel?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes wide. Besides the Metatron, Amenadiel was the angel closest to God, First Born. He slid suddenly sweaty palms against his waistcoat. Quite the unpleasant sensation, that. “Oh my.”

“Wait, what?” Crowley’s wings sagged slightly. “Why is a daughter of Lilith running errands for the First Born?”

The look Mazikeen shot Crowley was searing, except that he was also a demon and neither phased nor impressed. “Amenadiel is Lucifer’s brother, or have you forgotten? I’d expect you to remember such things since you’re from there and all that.”

Crowley’s answering sneer was far more terrifying to Aziraphale than Mazikeen’s, mostly because he’d never seen such a hateful look on his friend’s face. “So he’s loaning you out, then?”

“He’s paying me, asshole,” Mazikeen snapped. “They both are; American money, and lots of it. You two are my bounties.”

That shocked Crowley so much the demon snatched off his sunglasses to stare at her with wide, slitted eyes. “You  _ what _ ?”

Aziraphale didn’t know if his shock was due to knowing bounties had been placed on them, or that her reward was something as human as money. Either way, it was perhaps time to interrupt. He cleared his throat. Neither demon looked at him, but he was sure he had at least some of their attention. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “but I seem to be missing some of the finer details of this conversation. You are both demons?”

“She’s born,” Crowley snarled.

“Better than kicked out,” Mazikeen sneered, flashing savage teeth.

“Right.” He hadn’t known there were born demons. Obviously the two types weren’t fond of each other. “And you get paid in American money? Why?”

Mazikeen snorted. “How else am I supposed to pay the rent?”

“Rent?” Crowley interrupted, his wings loose at his back. He seemed to be having trouble wrapping his mind around what she was saying.

“What, you don’t pay rent?”

“I live here. Lilim don’t live here. Why do you live here? Why Los Angeles?” He almost sounded more flabbergasted by the last point, as if Los Angeles was the least conceivable place for a demon to be.

“I go where Lucifer goes. Or I used to. Sort of. Mostly.” Mazikeen seemed to enjoy Crowley’s confusion.

Aziraphale cleared his throat again, bringing the conversation back to him. “What you are saying is that he… the… uh, the Morningstar, he’s in Los Angeles?”

“Yeah. So’s Amenadiel.”

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at each other. “Is this a new thing?” the angel asked cautiously.

Without turning her back on Crowley, Mazikeen started studying one dagger. “Define new. Not long after the Apocalypse failed, Lucifer decided to take a vacation.”

“Satan has been on Earth for  _ seven years _ ?” Crowley was not handling this well.

The first thing Aziraphale felt he needed to do was calm Crowley down. His growing confusion seemed to be amusing the other demon, but that could easily explode. Aziraphale stepped forward, giving Mazikeen a wide berth as he edged around her. She allowed him the space to pass, keeping her attention easily on both immortals.

Once Aziraphale reached Crowley, the demon tried to put himself between them but the angel refused. He gave Crowley his back and spread his own wings slightly to force a bit of space between the demons.

“I am unclear as to why we should answer these summons,” Aziraphale stated calmly.

A pin could have dropped in the bookshop as both Crowley and Mazikeen stared at him. “You’re refusing Amenadiel’s summons?” Mazikeen actually sounded impressed.

“I don't see why we should walk to our destruction. We have done that once already.”

“You realize that I will make you?” she asked.

Aziraphale watched her with angelic calm. “You will try. You might even succeed.”

Mazikeen shrugged, twirling the daggers in her hands. “Have it your way.”

Before Aziraphale could reply, Crowley threw a book over his shoulder at her. Mazikeen easily struck it down, but it allowed the Fallen angel to dodge between the two. Rather than the tall human form, an enormous black and red serpent coiled. It was impossible to tell just how large he was with the way he looped on himself but he was easily big enough to crush both of them at the same time. He rose slowly between them to hover threateningly in the air, coils tense as if ready to strike.

Aziraphale had never seen Crowley physically hurt anyone, and certainly not as a serpent, so he wasn’t sure what to make of Mazikeen reacting as if Crowley had just done something profoundly threatening. She crouched, daggers ready, body held as tightly as Crowley’s in anticipation of a first strike. He could see they were seconds from attacking and nearly threw himself between them.

“Wait! I said I wouldn’t go, not that I wouldn’t speak with him.”

Both demons paused, watching each other warily. “You want him to come to you?” Mazikeen asked, a bit incredulous.

“My dear, even I have a telephone. Surely Amenadiel does as well?” It wasn’t a given, really, and he wanted to trust God’s greatest, but he’d been betrayed once and was extremely cautious, particularly where Crowley’s safety was concerned.

Mazikeen actually snickered. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” Tucking one dagger away, she rose and pulled out her smartphone. She dialed and listened as Crowley eased himself down slightly, watching.

“The angel wants to talk to you,” she said into the phone, then tossed it to Aziraphale.

He did not like mobile phones, didn’t trust them really, but he knew vaguely how to use one. He also suspected asking them to call back on the regular telephone might be pushing his luck. He put the device to his ear, a little uneasy at Mazikeen’s acquiescence. “Amenadiel?” he asked, trying not to let his nerves reflect in his voice.

“No need to be insulting,” a cultured voice said silkily over the line.

Aziraphale nearly dropped the phone, as if that would add distance between him and the speaker. He could feel the color bleed from his face, his hands picking up a fine tremor. Crowley flicked his tongue as if concerned over Aziraphale’s sudden anxiety. Mazikeen looked amused as all Hell. “Lucifer.” His voice quaked slightly.

“In the flesh, so to speak. How can I help you, Aziraphale?”

He closed his eyes briefly. The Devil knew his name. He should have expected that, but he’d rather hoped he’d remained a nameless angel to Hell. “I was rather hoping to speak with Amenadiel.”

“No mobile reception in the Silver City, I’m afraid. He might pop up once you’re in Los Angeles.”

“We’re not coming.”

“What was that? It sounded like you said you’re not coming.”

“Heaven and Hell have already tried to kill us once. We will not simply allow you to try again.”

There was a pause on the line. “I can see we have much to discuss,” Lucifer mused. “Let’s start simple: why would I want to kill you?”

Aziraphale had trouble comprehending the question for a moment. “You do know who we are?”

“Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, and Crowley, Serpent of Eden, Tempter of Christ, the First Temptation of Humanity.”

Well, he certainly did know who they were, and Crowley certainly sounded impressive. “Why do you want to see us?” he asked, eyes flicking to the enormous serpent.

“To discuss Armageddon, as it were.”

“And yet you wonder why we are wary about you destroying us?”

“Yes? Wait, over Armageddon?” Lucifer sounded genuinely surprised. “Water under the bridge, as they say. It’s been years, and I rather like the Earth. I don’t intend to punish you.”

“It's what you do. You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“Unlikely,” Lucifer said sharply, a sudden intensity to his tone. “I never lie.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, feeling his heart pounding. Who was he to be verbally sparring with the King of Hell?

“Swear it,” the angel said, opening his eyes.

Lucifer gave a half laugh. “You must be joking.”

“Swear that you mean us no harm.”

The silence was weighted. He could feel Crowley and Mazikeen’s eyes on him, the serpent stunned and the torturer intrigued.

“And what would you have me swear upon?” Lucifer asked.

It was a complicated question. If Lucifer swore and lied, then what he swore upon would belong to Aziraphale. But what did the Devil hold so valuable that he wouldn’t risk? Aziraphale wracked his brain, glancing around the shop.

“All earthly pleasure,” he finally said.

The silence extended again with surprise, then Lucifer laughed. It was a loud, joyous sound that actually left Aziraphale tingling with pleasure, to his own horror. “Oh, I do think I’m going to like you, Prince. Alright, then. I swear upon all my earthly delights that I intend neither you nor the Fallen Crowley harm during your visit to Los Angeles. Further, while you are engaging in business with me, I will extend to you both my not inconsiderable protection. You will be under my wing, so to speak. Satisfied?”

Satisfied? Aziraphale was shocked. He couldn’t believe he’d earned such a concession. He swallowed, feeling cornered. He hadn’t expected an agreement. “I suppose I must be,” he replied weakly.

“Splendid. I will see you both soon.”

“Crowley has not agreed to come,” Aziraphale said quickly.

There was a pause. “What?”

“I agree that I’ll answer Amenadiel’s summons since you swore, but Crowley has said no such thing.”

“Aziraphale,” the serpent hissed in warning, alarmed.

“Well then Mazikeen--”

“Will not touch him,” he interrupted. “Nor will you command him. Forcing him would make him a part of your business and therefore breaks your oath, since either way would harm him.”

Mazikeen’s eyebrows rose and she glanced at Crowley, who wilted slightly. It was obvious they knew something he didn’t. Lucifer, however, sounded delighted. “Oh, well done! Well done indeed. We can’t have Crowley being hurt, now can we?” Aziraphale was definitely missing something. “I’m very much looking forward to meeting you, Prince. See you in Los Angeles.” The Devil hung up.

Aziraphale passed the phone back to Mazikeen as Crowley shifted his form. The phone chimed distantly as the now humanoid demon rounded on him.

“I honestly never expected you to do something so stupid!” Crowley hissed.

“Argue about it later,” Mazikeen snapped. She put the daggers away, walked forward, and jerked her head at Crowley. “You’re free to go. Lucifer cancelled the bounty on you.”

“He did?” Crowley asked warily.

Mazikeen threw an arm over Aziraphale’s shoulders, causing the angel to jerk in surprise. “Looks like I’m your new demon buddy. I’m your bodyguard, so we’re going to need to stick close.” Her eyes slid over him as if contemplating how he’d taste, tongue licking her teeth. “Very close.”

Crowley looked as if he might rip her apart in his hellish fury. “Don’t touch him!”

She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him back in one piece, and when I do, you and I can discuss the bounty you lost me in painful detail.” She turned back to Aziraphale. “I gotta say, I’m impressed. I’ve seen Lucifer tangle with a lot of people, but I’ve never seen anyone make a deal that fast.”

Aziraphale froze, his whole being going cold. “That wasn’t a deal.”

“Sure was. Something for something. Protection in exchange for your presence. Like how he tacked that on, huh?”

For the first time in his long existence, Aziraphale rather thought he was going to be sick. “Oh… oh dear.”

Crowley slithered between them, pulling Aziraphale rather forcefully from Mazikeen as he bared fangs at her. “Stop torturing him.”

“I’m not hurting him. It’ll be a long flight; we can get to know each other.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he felt about this. It was strange; despite Crowley and Mazikeen obviously hating each other, they bickered with a familiarity he’d never experienced with his own kind. Angels always regarded each other with a distance that couldn’t be broached. Watching the two demons squabble was like two human siblings taunting each other.

On the other hand, in six thousand years, Aziraphale had never seen Crowley hurt someone. He had orchestrated deaths (he had given fair warning) and tempted humans (who could have refused) but he’d never struck anyone. For the first time, he actually seemed enraged enough to try it.

As an angel, Crowley had been a creator; as a demon, he was a tempter, no battling required. All angels had the innate knowledge of how to fight, but not all of them were required to use it. What Crowley did have on his side was his speed.

One moment he was seething, all but snarking at Mazikeen, then the warrior demon barely managed to dodge his fist. The Serpent of Eden was blindingly fast, even for an immortal, and he had Mazikeen away from Aziraphale before she could draw her weapons, black wings wrapped possessively around the angel.

“I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

Mazikeen looked both invigorated and a bit displeased at how close he’d come to hitting her. “For the First Temptation, you’re a real prude.”

Crowley bared his fangs at her, somewhere between a threat and a feral smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Once all had been settled, it didn’t take very long for Aziraphale and Crowley to be ready to leave. Truly, all that was needed was for Aziraphale to close the shop. Crowley didn’t even move his car. He refused to leave the angel alone with Mazikeen and no one would mess with it. Anyone who frequented the SoHo area knew better.

There was a private jet chartered to take them to Los Angeles. Crowley took that in stride, looking unimpressed, but Aziraphale found it a bit awkward. Once they’d taken their seats (Crowley beside Aziraphale and Mazikeen across the aisle and a row down), he asked about it.

Crowley snorted. “A Fallen and a Lilim trapped with a principality in a metal tube thousands of feet in the air with a bunch of innocent bystanders? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“What is a Lilim?” Aziraphale asked, glad to finally be getting answers. “You’re both demons, but you talk about each other like you’re different.”

“Because we are,” Mazikeen interrupted. She wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“The Fallen used to be angels,” Crowley replied shortly, glaring at her. “The Lilim were made.”

“Born, asshole,” she snarled. “ _ You _ were made.”

Something Crowley said earlier in the day finally caught up with Aziraphale and he swallowed. “Oh, dear,” he said a little sadly.

Both demons looked at him. “What?” Crowley asked.

“It’s just that… well, earlier you called her the daughter of Lilith.”

Crowley’s face gentled slightly. “Yes. The Lilim are her children.”

Mazikeen seemed agitated by their mutual mourning. “What?” she snapped.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly. “It’s just that I met your mother in Eden before she was cast into Hell: a charming woman, if a bit brazen. It always seemed like such a terrible punishment for so little.” Aziraphale glanced at her hesitantly. “Still there, I presume?”

Mazikeen’s eyebrows practically climbed into her hair. “Of course she’s still there. Charming is not a word I’ve ever heard anyone use for Lilith.”

“Hell changes a person,” Crowley replied.

“You’d know.”

“But why?” Aziraphale asked. “Why give her the cruel punishment of birthing a race of demons when there is already an army of Fallen angels?”

Crowley silently looked away, causing Mazikeen to laugh in delight. “You don’t know?”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, but then shook his head.

Mazikeen leaned forward, her pleasure brutal and excited. “The Fallen aren’t in Hell to serve Lucifer. They don’t really serve his will, even if he is the Master of us all.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “They don’t serve Lucifer?”

“Well, they are cursed to obey him, helpless to resist his power as their Master, but otherwise they act on their own. He didn’t command them to torment humanity.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, who just silently glared at Mazikeen. “I confess I don’t understand.”

“It’s like this: the Lilim were born to serve in Hell and help punish those who are imprisoned there. The Fallen were cast into Hell for the Rebellion. They are prisoners being tortured just like everyone else. They also happen to be angels and can leave, whereas the Lilim don’t have wings so we can’t. So,” she sat back, smirking, “The Fallen choose to go to Earth and torment God’s precious creations.”

“It was not my choice,” Crowley snarled. “I was ordered to do it.”

“Didn’t feel like rebelling a second time?” Mazikeen asked sweetly.

“I didn’t rebel the first time and look where it got me.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat, gaining their attention. “Then the basement I was in was not Hell?”

“Oh, it’s Hell,” Crowley replied. “It’s our part of it, our little slice of damnation. I’ve never seen Hell proper,” he added thoughtfully.

Mazikeen narrowed her eyes. “Wait. You’ve been to Hell?” she asked Aziraphale.

Both demon and angel paused, minds suddenly reeling. They couldn’t allow Hell or Heaven to figure out how they had saved themselves after Armageddon. “Why, no,” Aziraphale lied, and badly at that. “Why would I have been to Hell?”

“I described it to him once.” Crowley was a much better liar, but Mazikeen didn’t seem fooled.

“Sure,” she said, sitting back. She seemed content to drop it. “So what’s your story, Aziraphale? How did you get tied up with the First Temptation?”

“That’s the second time you’ve called him that,” Aziraphale pointed out, only too happy to distance the conversation from the previous topic. “Lucifer as well. What do you mean?”

Crowley sighed, staring off and crossing his arms grumpily. It was amusingly close to pouting.

“Because he is,” Mazikeen replied. “He was humanity’s first temptation with the apple. Did you know he made the same suggestion to Lilith but she refused?”

“You should have heard her counteroffer,” Crowley remarked dryly. “Besides, what does the Lilim know? I’ve probably met three of you.”

She shrugged. “There are three Fallen that all Lilim know, beyond Lucifer of course: Beelzebub, the Prince of the Fallen and their liaison with the rest of Hell, Dagon, Lord of Records for all of Hell, and Crowley, née Crawly, the Serpent of Eden and the First Temptation of Humanity.”

“Bloody perfect,” said serpent muttered, sinking low in his seat. “It’s not like you’re not notorious, you know.”

Aziraphale looked to Crowley. “Who is she?”

“I already told you; Mazikeen is Hell’s Head Torturer and Lucifer’s right hand, his favorite. You know you’ve really fucked up if Beelzebub threatens to sic her on you.”

“Have they? ‘Sicced’ her on someone, I mean.”

Crowley shrugged. “They’ve never had to carry out the threat.”

Mazikeen stood and walked over, sitting opposite of Aziraphale. Crowley bristled but she ignored him as she studied the angel. “You’re good at avoiding questions, aren’t you?”

He returned her observation blandly. “Am I?”

“I wasn’t able to get a lot of information about you. Aziraphale: the angel who tricked both Heaven and Hell into cancelling the war and I don’t even know your rank.”

“Technically, I tricked no one, and it was the Antichrist who--”

“Rank, Angel,” Mazikeen demanded. “I’m not about to let you put me off again.”

Aziraphale stiffened slightly. “I don’t have a standing in Heaven right now.”

“You are made into your choir, not assigned by Heaven. Only God can take that away, or Goddess I suppose; I do know that much.”

The angel smoothed down his waistcoat, considering Crowley’s silence. His companion was not protesting, so perhaps this line of questioning was mere curiosity.

“It is interesting,” he noted. “Lucifer knows my choir and title; I can’t see why he chose not to share it with you. I am a principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden.”

Mazikeen raised an eyebrow. “A prince, huh? Aren’t your kind supposed to be warriors?”

He was no longer used to the archaic term for his choir and wasn’t particularly pleased to have both Mazikeen and Lucifer calling him by it. “More of an officer, really, but I prefer to manage conflict by other means.”

She grinned, sharp teeth very white in her mouth. “Ever kill anyone?”

His response was cold. “No.”

“I could teach you.”

“I’ve no need for such lessons, I can assure you, and even if I did, I can’t imagine why in Heaven, Hell, or Earth I would want them from Hell’s Lead Torturer.”

“Because you need to know how to kill a person to make sure they don’t die during torture.”

“I know how to kill, perhaps better than you do.” The statement was matter-of-fact, almost stoney. “I was created that way. I doubt you could improve on God’s design in any meaningful way.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Why haven’t you been kind?” Aziraphale asked. “And do not suggest it is because you are incapable; I know better. Why did you not simply ask us to come? Why not be pleasant company?” He paused a moment, allowing her to snort at the questions. “Because you consider it unnecessary and do not wish to.”

Mazikeen narrowed her eyes, studying him. “It would break you, killing a human.”

“Perhaps.” He looked out the window, gaze distant. “Perhaps not. Either way, I don’t intend to find out.”


	3. Chapter 3

The trip was long, made even longer by the tension between the three travelers. Eventually, they stepped out of the taxi in Los Angeles, Aziraphale shielding his eyes against the glaring light.

“Charming,” he noted dryly, glancing around.

Mazikeen swept past them and headed toward the entrance of the building. The unlit marquis on the side read ‘Lux’. She entered a code and led them in. Crowley followed behind her with Aziraphale trailing. The angel seemed to be carefully observing everything, uncomfortable with what he sensed. Crowley extended his own senses and was a little surprised by what he found.

Lux was a nightclub, a rather upscale one at that. The thrill of dance and drink seeped into the very walls, as did Lucifer’s presence. There was definitely an infernal taint, but that was nothing unexpected with the Devil and who knew how many demons in residence. Despite that, the place didn’t feel evil, exactly. There was temptation and lust in spades, even gluttony, but the threat of violence and destruction was missing. There was something else as well, some tarnished thing buried deep down like a thread of spider silk. It was something familiar, something he couldn’t quite identify.

A hand touched his shoulder and Crowley jerked away with a hiss. He stopped short to see Aziraphale behind him, hand pulled up close to his chest. They were stopped on the stairs, Mazikeen behind the bar with her phone in her hands. She lifted an eyebrow at him as she sent her message then poured herself a drink.

Crowley glanced back at Aziraphale. “Just getting a feel for things,” he said. “May have gone too deep.” He slinked down the rest of the stairs, stepping up to the bar. To his surprise, Mazikeen immediately poured him a drink.

“How about you, Prince?” she asked, downing her first two fingers of liquor.

Aziraphale glanced over from by the tables. “Thank you, no. Is this a nightclub?”

“Not your scene, I bet.” She eyed his clothes.

“I don’t recall I’ve ever been in one.” He frowned slightly, studying the dark glitter surrounding him. “Amenadiel will meet me here?”

Mazikeen rolled her eyes. Lucifer would never lie, but Mazikeen certainly could and Crowley suspected that the entire thing about Amenadiel was bullshit to get his angel to come. “This is Lucifer’s place,” she said. “It’s his club and he lives up in the penthouse. Yes, Amenadiel frequents.”

Aziraphale looked taken aback to be in the Devil’s den. Crowley just poured himself another drink. The underlying familiarity that he couldn’t place still tickled the edge of his consciousness, like a serpent’s tongue tasting his ear. There was little of the early days of Hell when he was closer to Lucifer that he wanted to be reminded of, so he didn’t probe too hard.

“So, where is our Master, anyway?” Crowley asked her, rolling the tumbler between his fingers. “Not that I expected him to be waiting for us.” A smile curled his lips, something easy and flirty.

Mazikeen’s eyebrows rose, a smile flickering over her lips. Her tongue visibly stroked her teeth as she looked him over slowly. “Probably at work,” she purred.

Crowley blinked, startled. From behind him he heard Aziraphale, closer than expected. “I’m sorry, but did you say work?”

“What?” Mazikeen’s dark eyes flicked to the angel, “you don’t have bills to pay?”

“I rather thought that was what the nightclub was for. Couldn’t you miracle it?” Even as Aziraphale asked, Crowley found himself grinning.

“She can’t; she was never an angel.”

Mazikeen stared hard at him. “You can perform miracles? Figures.”

The Fallen flicked his fingers then delicately set the five dollar bill onto the counter before her. “Yup.” He downed his drink.

Her frown deepened. “Not all Fallen can do that.”

He poured himself more. “Nope.”

Mazikeen’s expression morphed into a scowl. “Even Lucifer can’t do that.”

“Really, now?” Crowley replied with bland interest. “Haven’t had the chance to catch up.”

“A fact that clearly needs to be rectified,” another voice broke in from the stairs, one that had haunted the serpent for millenia.

Crowley swallowed down the drink and looked up to see Lucifer descending the staircase, a blond woman behind him. The regal entrance was a bit ruined by the Devil wincing into the phone at his ear.

“Not you, Doctor Linda. Trust me, it will work out wonderfully. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to greet our guests.” He hung up on what sounded like someone yelling over the phone. At the bar, Mazikeen chuckled, looking entertained.

Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale. The angel wasn’t far; Crowley could be between him and Lucifer with a few steps. The presence of his Master made his marrow ache and his hands tremble. Sure, there were things he could do that Lucifer couldn’t, but that didn’t make Crowley any less helpless before him.

As Lucifer finished descending the stairs, he spread his hands to speak. Crowley set the tumbler aside, not looking at his Master. “Don’t look him in the eyes, Aziraphale,” he warned.

Lucifer’s steps slowed. “Well, that’s hardly sportsman-like, even if I didn’t intend to use it.”

He internally steeled himself before he stood, moving away from the bar. He took the steps necessary to put himself just slightly between Lucifer and Aziraphale before he finally faced the other man and gave him a half-hearted bow. “Master.”

Behind him, he could feel Aziraphale’s disapproval. Before him, Lucifer gave him a sharp grin, his dark eyes glittering with pleasure. “Hello, Crowley.”

Behind Lucifer, the blond woman glanced between them before muttering, “Did he seriously just call you ‘Master’?”

“I am the King of Hell, Detective,” Lucifer replied, “and Crowley here has been following me since before the War.”

“I wouldn’t say follow exactly,” Crowley muttered.

Lucifer cocked his head. “What would you call it, then?”

Crowley considered for a moment then shrugged. “Possibly ‘hung out in the general vicinity of’.”

“Wait,” the woman said, peering at Crowley. “You’re a Fallen angel? You’re actually as old as Lucifer?”

“Give or take an indeterminate amount of time,” Lucifer replied.

“Lucifer is older,” Mazikeen pointed out.

Crowley frowned, refusing to be distracted. “I’m sorry, did he call you Detective?”

“Forgive my manners,” Lucifer said, although there was a slightly sour tilt to his smile. “Crowley, Detective. Detective, Crowley.”

She stared at him in disbelief, then sighed and moved to step around him. She managed one footfall, her hand extended, before Lucifer caught her and held her back. She stared at him. “Seriously, Lucifer?”

“He’s dangerous, Detective.”

“Says the Devil,” Crowley drawled.

She stared at Lucifer for a long moment then sighed and looked back to Crowley. “Detective Chloe Decker, LAPD.”

“Charmed,” the demon replied dryly.

“Crowley here was the serpent who tempted Eve in Eden,” Lucifer chimed in.

Crowley frowned as Decker’s eyes widened. She looked up at Lucifer. “I thought that was supposed to be you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

She looked between the two Fallen. “So, what? Are you some big-wig in Hell?”

Crowley’s eyes widened in shock before he burst out laughing.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Lucifer said sourly, studying the other demon. “He probably could have been, but Crowley doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.”

“I thought you said he’s dangerous,” Decker replied, confused.

“You don’t have to beat someone to ruin their life, Detective, or have you forgotten what happened to Eve?”

The comment sobered Crowley, and he smoothed down his shirt before putting his hands in his pockets.

Decker eyed him. “Did you mean to do that?”

Crowley shrugged. “Always thought it was a bit of an overreaction.” His face was impassive behind the sunglasses.

Decker’s gaze moved past Crowley. “And you are?"

Crowley felt the angel behind him start, as if his mind had been elsewhere. “I am Aziraphale.”

The demon stiffened at Lucifer’s suddenly delighted grin. “Ah, yes. Detective, Aziraphale here is a principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden.”

“You’re a demon too?” she asked hesitantly.

“No,” all three demons assured very firmly.

Aziraphale stiffened slightly but then favored the human with a warm smile. “Principalities are a choir of angels, Detective Decker.”

Decker’s eyes widened. “You’re an angel?” she asked breathlessly.

Lucifer scowled slightly. “No need to sound so impressed.”

They both ignored him as Aziraphale inclined his head slightly. “Indeed.”

“I’m not impressed exactly,” Decker said. “I mean, not that you’re not impressive, or that being an angel isn’t… It’s just… I mean, there’s you and Maze and I love you both, but I’ve never met an angel.”

“What about Amenadiel?” Mazikeen piped up from behind the bar where she was snacking on cocktail olives. “He’s an angel.”

Decker blinked and looked up at Lucifer. “I guess that makes sense, since he’s your brother. I never really thought about it. Aziraphale just seems more like what I’d expect an angel to be.”

Mazikeen laughed even as Lucifer grinned. Aziraphale blushed furiously at being held above the far more powerful angel. “I’m absolutely going to have to remember to tell him that,” Lucifer nearly crowed.

“Not that this isn’t just darling, but is there a reason you summoned us?” Crowley interrupted. The strange spider silk feeling, so familiar, was sticking to the back of his mind, making his skin crawl. He wanted to scratch at himself, his serpent self hissing in the back of his mind.

“Still working on that, actually,” Lucifer replied.

Crowley froze. “I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale said.

“No need to beg, Prince. There’s been a slight hiccup but we should be ready for you soon.”

“Lucifer…” Decker sounded exasperated.

“She’s being unreasonable, Detective! As soon as the good doctor realizes that I am right we can pop our dynamic duo right back off to London.”

“She may actually kill you this time,” Mazikeen pointed out with a grin. “And I’m totally going to watch.”

Aziraphale’s gaze flicked between them, confused. “I thought Amenadiel--”

“She lied, Angel,” Crowley said absently. “You dragged us halfway across the bloody world, threatened us, and you’re not ready?”

Lucifer blinked, looking slightly taken aback by Crowley’s hostility. “It isn’t going to hurt you to slink out of you little nest for a while, take in the sights. You want dinner and a show? I’ll arrange whatever you desire.”

Crowley sneered. “I’m sure you will.”

Decker looked between the two, appearing just as perplexed as Aziraphale. “Are we missing something?” she asked the angel.

“Probably not much,” Mazikeen answered instead. “This kind of thing isn’t all that uncommon between powerful temptation demons.”

“Temptation demons?”

“Yeah. Most demons have a specialization. Crowley has more power than I expected and Lucifer is the Devil, but when you boil them down, they both excel at temptation.”

“Wait.” Decker pointed at Crowley and Aziraphale as if just now putting something together. “Are they the angel and demon that stopped Armageddon?”

Lucifer looked away from Crowley to frown at her. “Well, yes, but I suspect they didn’t actually do much.”

Decker stepped away from him, dodging his grasp to walk up to Aziraphale. “Hi,” she said, offering her hand. “Thank you. Really.”

Aziraphale smiled brilliantly, even though Crowley knew he was a little uncomfortable and mystified. “You are most welcome, my dear, though truly, success hinged quite heavily upon others.”

She shook his hand, then offered it to Crowley. Glancing at his face and the sunglasses there, she frowned. “Do you do the eye thing too?”

“ _ The eye thing _ ?” Lucifer sounded put out.

  
  


Crowley glanced at her hand, then slid the glasses down his nose. “No,” he said, then pushed them back up. He ignored her extended hand, not wanting to aggravate Lucifer more than was healthy. He could feel his protectiveness.

Aziraphale tutted softly. “No need to be rude, Crowley.”

“No, it’s alright,” Decker said, voice a bit breathless. She had paled at the sight of Crowley’s sulfur yellow eyes. “So you… uh…” She gestured to her own eyes. “You are actually a snake?”

“It’s a natural form of his,” Lucifer answered.

“Right.” She looked between Crowley and Aziraphale. “So, then you know where his son is?”

“Oh, for Hell’s sake, Detective,” Lucifer groaned, as if this was an argument they’d had many times before.

Mazikeen cackled. “You owe me double on the bounty,” she told him, rubbing the lost bet in his face.

Decker was unrepentant. “I don’t see how you don’t want to know!”

“Is this why you summoned us?” Crowley demanded.

Only Aziraphale remained calm. “Detective Decker, Lucifer does not have a son.”

Everyone went quiet. “What?” Decker said. “But the Antichrist--”

“Has the power to rewrite reality as he chooses,” the angel explained. “As such, he chose to no longer be Lucifer’s son, and thus is no longer the Antichrist. As for where he is, yes, we do know, and so does Lucifer.” Decker’s face began to crumble, but before anyone could speak up, Aziraphale continued. “You must understand, he was created with a purpose in mind, as were we all. Familial relations have no meaning to us.”

Decker looked confused then, even as the demons glanced at each other. “The Antichrist? I thought he was raised human.”

“I meant Lucifer.”

“But then why does Lucifer call Amenadiel his brother or God his father?”

Of the others present, only Crowley understood where Aziraphale was coming from. Mazikeen had been born in Hell while Lucifer was not just a creation of the God and Goddess, but was one of the First and considered their son. The other angels beyond the First were not. Crowley and Aziraphale have never had a family, and neither of them felt that absence.

“Whatever we desire, then?” Crowley asked, derailing the conversation.

Lucifer looked at him, bemused. “Perhaps. What is it you desire?”

“A private location for Aziraphale and I to talk.”

Lucifer glanced at the angel, still confused. “Very well. I’ll show you to the penthouse. Try not to steal anything.” He lead them over to an elevator.

“I’m not going to steal from you,” Crowley said in disgust as he followed Aziraphale inside.

Lucifer leaned in, selecting the button for the top floor before grinning. “I was speaking to the angel.” He leaned back out. “Do us a favor and don’t fly away, won’t you?”

“Fly?” Decker said, startled, as the doors closed.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley sighed at the blessed silence, though the hissing still hummed at the back of his mind. Then he looked at Aziraphale. “Don’t ask him for things. Never tell him what you desire.”

“As you just did?”

“He already owns me, Angel, and we need privacy to talk.” He rubbed his aching head.

Aziraphale frowned. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” Crowley said immediately, ignoring his growing headache. He glanced over at Aziraphale, seeing the angel’s concern, and felt a lazy, flirtatious smile curl his lips as the elevator doors opened. “After you,” he purred.

The angel blinked at the change of behavior but stepped out, looking around. He clucked his tongue. “It’s a bit flash, although he does have an excellent array of liquors. It’s just a bit… good Lord!”

Crowley’s eyes snapped up from where he’d been studying Aziraphale from behind, the flirtatious mood gone. “What?”

Aziraphale was already across the room, perusing a wall of antique books and practically cooing. Crowley snorted and decided to make himself a drink. “No stealing from the Devil,” he called.

“This book is a history of angels and demons. Where did the author even learn this? Oh, Crowley, look! He also has first edition Wildes!” He carefully took one down and studied it. “His are not signed.” He sounded indecently smug about that.

Crowley watched him with fond amusement, the soft hissing in the back of his mind almost lulling. “See anything you like, angel?”

“I would love the book on angels, though I know some of it already, of course.” His fingers practically twitched to reach for the book. “Most are not my cup of tea, so to speak, although there are quite a few gems.” Aziraphale looked back at him, smiling brilliantly. “He has a first edition of  _ Wuthering Heights _ !”

He sipped the whiskey, watching Aziraphale study the shelves. “You have it too, Angel.”

“Well, yes, but it's admirable. For the Devil.”

Crowley smiled, the curl of his lips dark. “Do you want the book?”

Aziraphale looked back at him with a small frown. “ _ Wuthering Heights _ ?”

“The book of angels.”

His eyes widened and he looked back at the one-of-a-kind volume. “Well, yes, but I’m certainly not going to steal from him.”

“No, but he might give it to you.”

“Why would he do that?”

The hissing in his mind was almost stimulating, making Crowley want to purr. “Don’t you think you’re owed a bit of recompense?”

“I don’t follow.”

The demon’s fingers slid around the rim of the glass hypnotically. Who he was trying to hypnotize, himself or Aziraphale, he couldn’t say. “You came all this way on a pretense that is untrue. Amenadiel is in the Silver City.”

Aziraphale slowly frowned. “I knew he was in the City. Lucifer told me over the telephone. I did expect for him to meet us, though.”

“He doesn’t even know you’re here. You’ve been deceived, Angel.”

Aziraphale looked away. “Maybe it's for the best. We won’t have to fight both Heaven and Hell at once.” He looked back, watching the long fingers slide across the glass. “Crowley,” he said slowly, “are you trying to genuinely tempt me?” He sounded almost hurt.

Crowley blinked, and the strange fugue faded. “No. What?” Was he? “No, of course not. I just meant…” He stared at the shelves, pulling his hand back to himself.

Aziraphale stepped over to him. “He seems charming, Lucifer.” He looked pained to say it. “We cannot trust him, however.”

“Like you can’t trust me?”

“I do trust you, Crowley, and you’ve earned that. He hasn’t. I don’t know who this doctor he spoke of is or what she wants from us, but we can demand to conclude our business.”

Crowley stared at him in astonishment. “You want to make demands of Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, Satan himself?”

“Weren’t you suggesting I demand a book?”

“Request, Aziraphale; ask for, cajole, seduce, tempt even, not demand.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows went up. “Seduce?”

“Don’t you dare. The point is that you can’t make demands of him. Like it or not, he is my master.”

The angel frowned. “It sounds like they believe you to be fairly powerful.”

“Doesn’t mean anything in the face of what he can do. I’m as much his prisoner as any other damned soul, and his slave like every other demon. Just because we got a bit cheeky, nothing’s changed. If he truly called me to heel, I’d obey with delirious pleasure.” And it rankled. Crowley had never really considered his situation in such light, but he hadn’t been in Lucifer’s presence since the Fall, not counting Tadfield. Being faced with Satan in his questionable glory was different than the silky smile of the Morningstar. Crowley knew without a doubt that Lucifer could dominate his will with a single crooked finger and he’d thank him and beg for more, and it left him filled with enough terror and fury to howl.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale interrupted his spiraling thoughts, placing a soft hand on his. The demon nearly jerked away, his head aching distractedly, but managed to stop himself.

“I’ve never been in the center of his seat of power,” Crowley said, carefully pulling his hand away. “I’ve never been into central Hell.”

The elevator doors opened and Lucifer and Decker stepped in. “Ah, helping yourself, I see,” the Devil said, stripping off his jacket.

Decker seemed far more apologetic about interrupting. “They’re prepping to open downstairs,” she said, gesturing vaguely behind her.

Aziraphale’s voice was fond. “Quite alright, my dear.” He looked over at Lucifer. “How long exactly do you intend to string us along?”

“Am I not charming enough for you, little prince?”

Crowley gripped the edge of the bar hard enough to make it creak.

“Lucifer,” Decker warned.

“I meant what I said,” Lucifer relented. “It truly is a small hiccup. I expect it’ll be cleared up tomorrow.”

“Oh, do you?” she asked, amused.

“As soon as she realizes my intentions are good--”

Decker snorted.

Lucifer ignored that to study the angel. “Rumor has it that you enjoy a good meal on occasion, Aziraphale. Where would you like to take the detective for dinner? Spago’s? Bestia? My treat.”

“Oh,” Decker said, sounding surprised even as Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “I actually should get home to Trixie. My daughter,” she elaborated to the angel.

“Well, I’d suggest bringing the little beastie except it would be a waste of the chef’s talents.”

Aziraphale and Decker both looked at Lucifer, then both dismissed him and turned to each other. “Where do you and Trixie like to dine, if I may ask?”

Decker blinked but considered his question. “Well, there’s this pizza place near our apartment with games and a wood-fired oven. It’s really good, actually.”

“Perhaps then we could join you.”

The room went silent as everyone considered that Aziraphale meant to include Crowley. On the one hand, Crowley didn’t want the angel out of his sight. Though Lucifer swore an oath and never lied, he wasn’t interested in betting Aziraphale’s life. He felt like a live wire of anxiety the moment Mazikeen had crashed into their lives. However, absolutely no one wanted Crowley around the detective. She obviously meant too much to Lucifer.

“I think Crowley would be more comfortable at Lux,” Lucifer suggested. “Won’t you, pet?”

Decker and Aziraphale immediately protested the term of questionable endearment.

“Lucifer!”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Actually, he’s right.” It was almost painful for Crowley to say. “About the nightclub. I should stay here.”

Decker looked like she wanted to protest on principle but was secretly relieved. Aziraphale, however, seemed almost distressed. “Perhaps I should stay as well.”

Crowley sat back. “Angel, you’ve never stepped foot in a nightclub. You’d hate it. It’s loud, flashy, and risqué.”

“Besides, I’m not going to eat him,” Lucifer protested. “Let a demon play in the hottest nightclub in LA. He deserves it.”

Crowley barely smothered the urge to sneer.

Aziraphale looked uncertain but Decker stepped forward. “I’d enjoy a chance to talk away from Lucifer. The Devil is my partner and my roommate is a demon. I’d like to meet an angel.”

Said angel smiled at her, slight but beautiful. Still, he glanced at Crowley, as if triple checking the demon was okay. Crowley pointedly poured himself another drink. “Try not to bore her too much, would you?”

Aziraphale took Decker’s offered hand. “I would protest Crowley’s assertion,” he started, walking to the elevator with her, “but the parts of Heaven I frequented are rather dreadfully dull.”

“I bet it's beautiful,” she said.

“But frightfully cold. Eden, however, was unimaginably beautiful and lush.”

As the elevator doors closed behind them, Crowley glanced at Lucifer. The Devil absently unbuttoned his shirt and headed into the other room. “I doubt I have anything that will fit you,” he called, going through his closet. “You always were such a slender bastard.”

“I’d rather not,” Crowley said, sipping his drink and miracling a change of clothes. He lost the jacket and tie, made the shirt a bit looser with red accents, and the trousers a bit more snug. “ Besides, Hell only knows where your clothing has been.”

Lucifer came back out and stilled as he studied Crowley’s new outfit. “You’ve maintained miracles, I see.”

Crowley grinned at him, and if his fangs flashed, there were no humans to see. Lucifer merely shook his head. “Flash bastard indeed.”


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley stood outside of the club, his eyes closed as he breathed in the night air, a cigarette dangling from thin fingers. Aziraphale had been gone for hours, the party inside at full swing, and he’d needed a moment to himself. The air was electric, the mood licentious, the music beating with the throbbing in his head.

Mazikeen had wandered back into the club with a new blonde woman in tow. Crowley had watched from his booth he’d claimed as Mazikeen pointed him out. The blonde had frowned, then peered at him intently, studying him. Crowley had toasted her with his drink and she had asked Mazikeen a question. The demon shook her head, responded, and the blonde had glanced at him again, but then turned away. They did not come over, and Crowley briefly wondered what all that had been about.

They were the only ones who left him alone. For some reason, half the club had tried to pick him up and the night was still young. He was used to a certain amount of attention, but he was also used to them tittering from a distance because of Aziraphale’s presence. Without the angel, women danced on the table before him, men combed fingers through his hair, and waitresses kept bringing him a steady supply of drinks from willing donors. He was drunk on both alcohol and lust, and the pressure in his head had shifted until it thrummed throughout his body. He almost felt like he was drifting, a predator amidst prey just begging to be consumed.

Crowley took a deep drag from the cigarette, feeling the bass in his marrow. He heard whispers and giggles and opened his eyes to see three women watching him. He breathed out the smoke slowly and watched their eyes darken, the temptation humming between them.

It was strange. Crowley could feel the spider silk threads of that thing that felt so familiar. They seemed almost tangled around him, more like a web than thread, and the heady hunger from the club patrons and these women in particular were making everything sing. One of the women crooked a finger at him, a promise in her flirtatious smirk. Crowley’s gut tightened but he hesitated, thinking of his angel out at dinner with the detective.

At his pause, the web tightened, making his burn, the thought of Aziraphale evaporating. He looked back at the women and smiled.

~~~

Aziraphale followed Decker back into the club, letting her pull him along by the hand. The press of such a crowd at the best of times left him uncomfortable, but the moving lights and loud music were extremely overstimulating. He tried to search through the sea of people for Crowley as they descended the stairs. His eyes skimmed over half a dozen indecent acts, more skin than he’d seen since the nineteenth century, and all seven deadly sins, but he didn’t see the demon. He only refocused when a drink was pressed into his hand. His eyebrows went up. “A strawberry daiquiri?” he asked and glanced up.

Mazikeen smirked. “Too much for you?” Decker had led him over to where Lucifer was holding court with the leather-clad demon and a lovely blond woman with glasses.

“My preference is wine or champagne,” he said, setting the drink aside. “Or perhaps a good scotch or whiskey.”

Mazikeen eyed the angel as Lucifer nodded to the bartender and something amber was poured over ice. Decker snagged the daiquiri.

“Waste not,” she said and sipped the drink before hissing. “Damn, Maze. You might want to think about putting some strawberries in with the rum next time.”

The demon shrugged. “I made it for an angel, not a human.”

“You made it?” Aziraphale asked.

“She was behind the bar and everything,” Lucifer replied.

Aziraphale blushed. “My apologies, Mazikeen. I did not intend to offend you.”

Mazikeen gave him a once over. “You can make it up to me by getting drunk with us.” She passed over the glass of whiskey.

Aziraphale took it and sipped. The blond had been watching him intently, undisturbed by the talk of angels. She was obviously a friend of the two demons and human. The feeling of being an outsider that had cropped up since Crowley had arrived at the bookshop to rescue him increased.

She seemed to reach some conclusion. “You’re an angel too, then?”

“Indeed,” he answered. “Forgive me, but ‘too’?”

“You and Amenadiel.”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise. Decker must have decided that she was the only adult because she started making introductions. “Linda, this is Aziraphale. Aziraphale, Dr. Linda Martin. Did you meet his friend Crowley?”

“Maze pointed him out,” Linda replied, and shot an accusing glance at Lucifer. “Seemed like he didn’t want company so I left him alone.”

“Forgive me, Dr. Martin, but are you the one that requested our presence?”

Linda’s mouth thinned in anger, but her glare was for Lucifer, not Aziraphale. The Devil interrupted. “It’s a surprise, little prince. The issue will be resolved tomorrow, yes?” he asked Linda.

“We’ll see,” she replied stiffly.

“Where is Crowley anyway?” Decker asked, glancing around.

“Stepped outside to have a smoke,” Mazikeen answered. “I can see why he was sent Up first. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and brooding. I don’t think there’s a human here who hasn’t wanted to crawl him like a maypole.”

“I object to that,” Decker scoffed.

“Seconded,” Linda answered.

Mazikeen just grinned. “Liars.”

“Anyway,” Lucifer interrupted, a bit stiff as he eyed the blushing women, “how was dinner?”

Aziraphale was frowning slightly. “Delightful. Good food and charming company. Did you say smoking?”

“Don’t worry, angel,” Mazikeen purred. “I’m sure if you loosened up a bit and opened a few of those buttons, you’d get your own attention.” Her gaze lingered again, hungry and taunting. Aziraphale decided to ignore the suggestion.

“Did the beastie go?” Lucifer asked.

Decker rolled her eyes. “I wasn't going to starve her at home. We dropped her off with Dan after.”

“It is interesting. She seems to be the only human I’ve met who doesn’t know I’m an angel,” Aziraphale said blandly. He glanced at Lucifer. “Seems to adore you, poor thing.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Lucifer grinned, earning a snort from Linda and a punch to the arm from Decker. “And I’ve never lied about who I am. It’s not my fault if people don’t believe me.”

“My point, rather, is that we tend  _ not _ to tell. It disturbs humanity.”

“Not if they don’t believe you.”

Aziraphale sighed and glanced again at the club door. Perhaps he should check on Crowley.

“So, Aziraphale, what is it you do?” Linda asked. “For work, I mean.”

He blinked, looking back. “Oh. Well, it’s been some time since I’ve had a proper assignment, but small miracles and such.”

Linda’s eyebrows shot up. “Miracles?”

“She means for money, Prince,” Mazikeen said dryly.

“Oh.” There was a strange tickling sensation at the back of Aziraphale’s mind, like the soft drag of chains. He glanced around with a frown. “I own an antique book shop.”

“Oh. Wow. Do you sell a lot of books?” Linda asked.

“Goodness me, no. It does get a bit tedious trying to discourage that from happening.”

There was a stunned silence. “I’m not sure you get the point of a shop,” Mazikeen drawled.

“So I’ve been told.” The air was warm and electric, more so than from the press of human bodies. There was magic in the air, a sense of something otherworldly, but all Aziraphale could pick up specifically was infernal energy and temptation deep enough to drown in.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, unsure if he was just reacting to the nightclub.

“You’re too uptight,” Mazikeen answered, setting her drink aside. “You should relax.” She stepped up to him, fingers tugging his bow tie loose.

Aziraphale grabbed her hands. “Maze, what are you doing?” Lucifer asked from beside them, frowning.

Mazikeen leaned in and licked the angel’s cheek. “Giving him a hand.”

“There’s Crowley,” Decker said, as if trying to interrupt the awkward moment.

Aziraphale looked over at the door and nearly smiled at the sight of the demon, then he saw the three women draped over him. Crowley slithered through the crowd with an ease that humans couldn’t possibly mimic. It left him with room to brush against others as he descended, and all eyes turned to him as he passed. Hands reached out, fingertips brushing, and he wove through it all like a snake through underbrush. His actions seem to be at the center of the heat of the magic and the club was slowly slipping under its power.

Teeth dragged at Aziraphale’s ear and he jumped. Lucifer firmly pulled Mazikeen away from him, expression concerned as he watched Crowley. “Why is he enthralling my club?”

“Something’s wrong,” Aziraphale replied. He glanced at the humans. Decker seemed merely confused but Linda was dark-eyed, focused on Crowley and panting slightly. The rest of the club-goers were in a similar state, pressing close against a neighbor in lust or hypnotized by the demon. They parted for him, reaching out to touch longingly. “Something is very wrong.”

“Maze,” Lucifer said, shaking her gently. “Maze!” Her eyes flicked to Crowley but then stayed on Aziraphale, the enthrallment tangled in her aura.

“What’s going on?” Decker asked.

“Crowley’s a temptation demon; he’s enthralling the crowd, Maze included,” Lucifer answered.

“What? Then why is Maze focused on Aziraphale?”

“He’s an angel, she’s a demon. It’s a greater temptation to corrupt him then being Crowley.” Lucifer looked at Decker. “Leave. Take Linda with you.”

“What about Maze?”

“The prince will just have to deal with her while I stop Crowley.”

“And the crowd?”

“With any luck, they’ll think it’s a floor show. Go.”

Aziraphale looked at Lucifer. “Let me try to stop him.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied, eyes glittering. “We have to stop him to save the people and he has no choice but to obey me.” He released Mazikeen. The demon immediately grabbed Aziraphale by the jacket, yanking him close.

“Lucifer!” Aziraphale protested, grabbing for her hands.

“Let the Devil deal with his demon,” Decker said as she grasped Linda’s arms to pull her away.

Aziraphale wasn’t in position to further protest as Mazikeen pinned him against the bar. She didn’t try to free her hands, merely growling against his neck.

Crowley had made his way to the dance floor, the power singing through the club, a net woven over the crowd. The sunglasses were gone, his sulfur yellow eyes visible to all. Aziraphale was forced to admit, with Mazikeen’s teeth on his ear and the power in the club near deafening, that Lucifer might be better equipped to control the situation. He watched as Lucifer moved confidently through the humans, a king in every inch of his being as much as Crowley was the serpent. People crowded Crowley, touching as the demon slithered his dance across the floor. Demons were supposed to be terrible dancers, so Aziraphale wasn’t sure what had come over him.

The people parted as Lucifer stepped up in front of Crowley, giving him a dark grin.

“Hello, Crowley,” Lucifer purred.

“Hello, Master,” Crowley replied, steady serpent eyes focused on him.

“I don’t appreciate the display. This is my place. Stop this.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Lucifer’s neck, long fingers sliding through his hair. “Make me.”

Aziraphale was using a miracle to hear. He could feel the power in the air, practically smell the brimstone like ash. It made his feathers puff, his wings arching where they were hidden. It felt similar to Hell, but different than what he’d experienced. It seemed anticipatory.

Lucifer purred. “Oh, pet, you don’t want me to do that.”

Crowley swayed in front of him. “Make me, or fuck off.”

Lucifer’s smile faded slightly, eyes flashing. “Crowley,” he commanded, “Stop.”

Aziraphale felt the power snap into place, a blast of heat burning like a wind from Hell. He gasped and had to fight to keep his wings from appearing. Mazikeen’s teeth sank into his neck and he struggled for a moment to orientate himself under the onslaught.

High laughter echoed through the club as the heat faded. Aziraphale froze. He recognized that laugh, although it was far more deranged since the last time he heard it. Aziraphale released one of Mazikeen’s hands to touch her head.

“Mazikeen, sleep,” he said, no longer interested in playing gentle. The miracle cut through the lust and her eyes rolled as she sank to the floor. Aziraphale quickly wove through the crowd to get closer.

Lucifer had Crowley behind him, the serpent gazing blankly at the woman now standing before them. She had long, dark hair and black eyes, clothed in a simple black dress. She was staring at her hands and laughing. “I can’t believe that worked! Oh, I have been waiting for this. I knew you couldn’t resist dominating him. Like father, like son.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows rose, but it was Aziraphale who spoke. “Lilith,” he breathed.

Lilith looked over at him and seemed delighted to see him. “Aziraphale. How wonderful.”

“You’re supposed to be in Hell,” Lucifer snapped.

Lilith turned back to him. “So are you. I would be, if you were there. This…” she gestured to the crowd, to Crowley, then finally herself, “this is because of you. What was the saying I heard… when the Devil’s away or something?”

Like a flash, Crowley dodged around Lucifer to go to Lilith’s side. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, gripping the railing.

“I set the trap specifically for him, you know,” Lilith murmured, stroking Crowley’s hair. “I heard rumors of the Serpent stopping Armageddon. With you both on Earth, he was bound to end up here eventually.”

“How could you have woven that spell from Hell?” the angel asked.

Lilith glanced at him with a sharp grin. “I am the Mother of Demons; Mazikeen is my daughter. A part of me goes where she does.”

“So you’ve escaped Hell,” Lucifer interrupted. “Well done. Now what do you plan to do?”

She smiled, sharp teeth flashing in the lights of the club. “Do you remember, Luci, why I was cast into Hell?”

“Missionary wasn’t your favorite position?”

“For being me, everything I was made to be. God made me equal, then punished me for not submitting, damned me to an eternity of breeding and pregnancies. All of it for being how He made me. I figured, if I'm going to spend eternity as the Mother of Demons…” Her eyes flickered to Aziraphale, “then I’m going to do something to earn it.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around her, his black wings unfolding. Aziraphale bolted to catch them, but they disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

Aziraphale stood on the balcony, high above the restless city. His eyes were closed, his face tilted up to try and feel a cool breeze. He could hear arguing from inside the penthouse and did his best to ignore it. He wasn’t sure he understood why Lilith had taken Crowley or how it was that she’d escaped Hell to begin with. Just then, he truly didn’t care. Hell was Lucifer’s problem. Finding Crowley was his.

His eyes still closed, Aziraphale let angelic calm slip over him. He found a breeze, could hear the party continuing below them from the entrance of the nightclub, and sense the two demons behind him. Lucifer had made him rouse Mazikeen, and she was pissed at Lilith’s manipulation. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to care that her focus had been on Aziraphale, too agitated by Lilith’s escape. It was just as well because he wasn’t interested in discussing it.

Principalities were angels of places and as such were assigned territories. As guardians of those territories, they could sense the comings and goings, particularly of divine beings. Aziraphale’s territory was Eden, long since lost, but he had some connection to London. Unfortunately, he had no power over Los Angeles. Still, he tried to let his power slowly seep out over the area to see what he could find. He didn’t get far from the penthouse before the weave of it fell apart.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration. He thought he was getting farther, but it was difficult to concentrate. LA was an alien place with far more people than Eden’s two. It was completely different from his usual haunts and it didn’t help to have the source of all evil at his back. Most of all, he was terrified for Crowley. He had always held some vague concern about Lilith’s damnation, but had trusted God’s plan. Faced with the First Woman and Mother of Demons, Aziraphale worried for her state of mind and what she might do, particularly to his dear serpent.

“So you’re both brooders, huh?”

Aziraphale turned to see Linda approach. “I suppose we may have our moments. I’m actually trying to sense them.”

“Can you do that?”

“I’m a principality; our powers govern locales.”

“Is that why Maze calls you prince?”

“It’s an old name for us.”

They fell silent as Linda stepped up beside him, putting her hands on the railing. “How are you doing?”

“I’m worried about Crowley, and what Lilith might do.”

“No, I mean you.” She gestured to the still visible bite on his neck, blossoming into a bruise. “I imagine you don’t get sexually assaulted by a demon everyday.”

If Crowley had been there, the jokes he would have cracked would have been beyond appropriate. Instead, Aziraphale waved his hand and the mark faded. “I’m fine, Dr. Martin. I’d rather concentrate on finding them, if you please.”

Linda stared a moment, as if trying to read him. “They will find him, you know.”

“My concern is for his state if this takes too long, and frankly, I’m not sure Crowley won’t be too difficult for the Morningstar to catch.”

She looked out over the city. “Lucifer said that Crowley was the one to enthrall everyone. Is that true?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered softly. “I’ve never seen him outright perform a mass temptation. If it was and not just a part of Lilith’s trap, he didn’t do it of his own will. I don’t believe he ever would.”

“Still, that’s an awful lot of power.”

Aziraphale stiffened. “That frightens you.”

“Aziraphale, I just got bewitched by a demon. Yes, that frightens me.”

“And yet you will share a drink with the Devil himself in a nightclub he owns.” He gave her a short glance. “Why are you here, Dr. Martin? You should go home and rest.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re both here because of me, even if I didn’t ask for it. I want Crowley back safe too.”

He finally turned to her, frowning. “And why are we here, Doctor?”

A hand clapped onto his shoulder, nearly making him flinch. He’d been so focused on Linda that he hadn’t seen Lucifer approach. The urge to flee was strong; Lucifer was probably aware of it which was why the grasp remained.

“The detective is going to see what she can dig up. Lilith isn’t exactly going to be subtle, not if what she said is true.”

“The police will help?” Aziraphale asked, surprised.

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “Apparently being enthralled by the Mother of Demons and subsequently kidnapped is a hard thing to sell. Not to worry, however; she has resources.”

“And you?” the angel asked. When Lucifer looked at him in surprise, he frowned. “You’re the King of Hell, Lord of the Abyss. It’s your duty to keep it contained.”

“Duty?” Lucifer said, astonished. “It’s not a duty, it’s a punishment, and one I’ve had quite enough of.”

“You can’t turn your back on your responsibilities.”

“Says the angel who disobeyed orders and betrayed his own people.”

“My duty is to protect the Earth and the humans upon it,” Aziraphale said coolly.

“And I’m sure your motivations were completely selfless.”

“Have you considered that those who followed you into your punishment might deserve some loyalty from you as well?”

Lucifer’s eyes burned. “Do not speak of things you don’t understand, little angel. You are far too close to Falling yourself to be criticizing your future king.”

Disgust roiled in Aziraphale’s throat but he refused to back down. However, he also didn’t answer.

Lucifer turned away, going back into the penthouse. “As it happens, Maze is doing her own digging,” he said, pouring himself a drink. “Since only you, I, and the detective are immune to their combined powers, however, she can’t go on the hunt herself.”

“And why is that?” Linda asked, speaking up. “Maze is your right hand, so she’s more powerful than Aziraphale, right? And Chloe is human. How can they resist?”

“Maze has never been an angel, so her level of power is a different kind of thing than Aziraphale.”

“How?”

Lucifer considered, turning the glass in his hands as if he didn’t truly want to discuss it. “Angels are crafted by my Father, but when he turned his attention to humans, Mother took over command of them. Earth angels like Aziraphale never spent much time in Her presence but everyone was touched by Her at least once. That means all angels, both Above and Below, have been blessed by both of my Parents. Lilim like Mazikeen never have been. The only time they were ever in divine presence was to torture Mother. We are divine; the Lilim are not.” Lucifer knocked back the two fingers of liquor, then his eyes bulged. He choked, gagging on the liquid.

“Lucifer!” Linda said, rushing forward to pound on his back. Aziraphale leaned against the sliding glass door, hands in his pockets.

As Lucifer managed a strained breath, the angel asked blandly, “Dear me, are you alright?”

“What the me was that?” Lucifer wheezed. “It tasted like sand.” He grabbed the bottle and read the label.

“That was a broken oath.”

Lucifer frozen, then turned startled eyes to the frigid angel. “What?”

“You swore we would be safe, both of us; that you would protect us, and you have not. You broke your word.”

“How was I supposed to bloody well know that Lilith could use myself and Crowley to escape Hell and was biding her time for a little Master/slave kink?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Aziraphale said coldly. “You swore, so if you want your earthly pleasures back, you’d best get a wiggle on, hadn’t you?”

Lucifer’s eyes burned again as he stalked toward Aziraphale. “Extortion. Oh, very good, Aziraphale. You’ll be joining us in no time.”

He just didn’t have room in his heart for terror of both Lucifer and for Crowley. “I would hope not, if I were you. I can’t imagine being at the mercy of someone who has none.”

Lucifer sneered at him. “You’re a principality; why can’t you sense them?”

“This is not my territory. You’re the Devil; why can’t you?”

He suddenly grinned, a dark thing that promised Aziraphale would regret this. “Then I’d say the two of us together should be able to find them.” He put his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, the weight a painful thing. His grin was sharp, eyes hot. “This is going to be fun!”

~~~

Crowley stood just behind Lilith, leaning with feigned casualness against an air conditioning unit. They were on the edge of a rooftop near the Santa Monica Pier. The breeze off the ocean carded through his feathers as he watched the demon queen. Unease warred with the enchantment she’d wrapped him in.

“You know this is a bad idea, Lilith,” he said, watching the way the lights played across her dark skin. She perched on the edge of the roof, eyes on the pier like a predator waiting to strike.

“What’s he going to do?” she asked blandly. She turned to glance at him, “damn me more?”

“He could make it worse.”

“Worse?” The look she favored him with was chilling. “I’ve spent six thousand years as a broodmare. Explain how that could be worse.”

Crowley could think of a great many things but decided it was in his best interest not to agitate her. She would be more likely to lash out at him and he needed her to be reasonable or she might do something he’d regret.

“You are damned. Your soul belongs to him. He is your master as well as mine. He will find us.”

“Eventually,” she agreed, staring out over the water. “Do you know, I’ve never seen the ocean?”

The yearning in her voice was almost more frightening than the rage. It made him want to please her. He bit down hard on the urge and spread his wings slightly, encouraging the cool breeze to hit him. He wasn’t entirely cold-blooded, but was just serpentine enough that temperature could affect his mood. Being cold would make it harder for the fire of her desire to affect him.

A small smile finally curled her lips as she looked back toward the way they had come. “Whatever they have planned, they have begun,” she purred.

Crowley frowned. “How do you know?”

“I can feel her, my child. She is on the hunt.” Lilith focused on him, her eyes tracking his form nearly hidden in the shadows of the air conditioner. Crowley felt the barbed net of her enchantment tighten around him. “My Crawly, come here.” She held out her hand to him.

He wanted to resist on principle but decided to stick with playing along. Lucifer would have to hunt Lilith down and Aziraphale would never abandon him. He needed to conserve his energy to give them time. He pushed away from the unit and took her hand, sitting on the ledge of the roof beside her.

It turned out to be a mistake. Lilith touched the serpent mark on his face and the barbs tightened, holding him helplessly still.

“You are my favorite, Crawly; did you know that?” she murmured. “Sometimes, I would think about us both in Hell and wish that you were locked away with me. It might have been more pleasant to have someone to father my children.” She held his chin, forcing him to look up at her. “Do you know why I hungered for you?”

A sarcastic remark sat unspoken on the tip of his tongue. Lilith smiled as if she could sense those smothered words. “Because I said no, and you listened.” Lilith leaned in and kissed him, eating at his mouth hungrily. His ability to fight faded as the barbs sank deep into his being. He would have shrieked if he could.

Lilith pulled back, her eyes alight. “My lovely,” she purred. “Here’s what you’re going to do…”


	7. Chapter 7

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure which demon was the better driver, truthfully. On the one hand, Lucifer drove something that at least approximated the speed limit, particularly in the middle of the city. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t perform miracles like Crowley, or maybe speed was a part of the serpent’s nature.

On the other hand, Lucifer was invulnerable and had zero compunction about smearing Aziraphale like paste across the pavement.

Aziraphale’s eyes were closed, one hand braced on the dash, the other against the door. He refused to let the whimper that curled in his throat out and spent the drive trying to breathe past it.

“Well, little prince? Any idea where they might go?”

The angel swallowed carefully, trying to collect himself. “I suppose it would rather depend on what kind of sin she’s likely to commit. She was always headstrong, but it’s not the crime it once was.”

“What about Crowley?”

Aziraphale opened his eyes to look sideways at Lucifer. “Whatever do you mean?”

“What are his favorite kinds of temptations?”

He wanted to protest the question, but due to the Agreement, he did actually know a thing or two about Crowley’s preferred techniques. “He has mostly approached targets Hell has assigned him. He prefers to generate minor inconveniences that aggravate humans and lets them decide their own actions. It he does a temptation for his own amusement, it tends to be either humorous or some form of vengeance, typically for wrongs done to someone else.”

“Well, he’s just a rubbish demon.”

Aziraphale glared. “You work with the police.”

A phone started ringing. The two looked at each other.

“It’s not my ringtone,” Lucifer said.

“But I don’t have a mobile telephone.” Aziraphale patted his pockets and pulled out Crowley’s sleek black smartphone. The number was listed as unknown.

“Hello?” Aziraphale answered, puzzled.

“Aziraphale, listen carefully,” a familiar voice demanded over the line.

Relief flooded through the angel. “Crowley? Where are you? Are you alright?”

“You have to get to the Santa Monica Pier,” Crowley replied, sounding almost desperate. “She wants me to push the ferris wheel off the pier.”

“What?” he said, alarmed.

“Where?” Lucifer demanded.

Aziraphale told him. “Crowley, my dear, you must resist her.”

“I’m calling you, aren’t I?”

“But why do that?”

“I don’t know, Angel! Just get here!” The line went dead.

Aziraphale looked at Lucifer. “Lilith wants him to push the ferris wheel into the water.”

Lucifer blinked. “What? Why? What will that do?”

The angel was shocked. “It will drown everyone on it!”

“Yes, but that’s not exactly style, now is it?”

“She’s never actually sinned before. She doesn't have a style!”

“She’s a demon of desire. It doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Aziraphale huffed in frustration and fumbled with Crowley’s phone to call Decker. “Perhaps you should note it on their next performance reviews. The pier, please, and quickly.”

Lucifer glanced at him. “Testy. We’re not far.”

By the time Aziraphale finished fussing with the phone and explaining everything to the detective, they arrived at the pier. They both got out of the car but before the angel could run off, Lucifer grabbed his arm. “Go check on the wheel and figure out how to stop it in case it does fall. I’ll look for them.”

Aziraphale fretted for half a second then started weaving through the crowd to the end of the pier. Thus far, everything appeared to be running normally. He looked up at the ride, trying to decide what to do. He could stop the wheel, but it would be obvious to all the humans, having an angel appear amongst them.

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

He stiffened at the voice and turned to see Lilith. She was calmly standing there in a hood coat, Crowley nowhere to be seen.

“Lilith.” He looked up at the wheel, checking the number of people on it. “Please don’t hurt these humans.”

“That depends on you.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Lilith looked around. “You’re a principality, yes? An angel of place?”

“Yes?”

“I will spare these people and even take you to your love. You will hide us, blend us in away from the Morningstar’s eyes.”

“But, why?” he asked, confused.

“Do you want answers or to save lives? You can’t have both.”

It really wasn't a question. Aziraphale would always put the lives of humans first, and he needed to know Crowley was safe. They could figure out what to do next once the demon was back by his side. “Very well.” He offered her his hand, which she readily took, then reached for powers he’d rarely had reason to use. “It will be imperfect as this is not my territory.”

Lilith tugged at his hand. “Then we’d best leave.”

~~~

Lucifer made his way to the end of the pier just as Decker reached him. “Did you see them?” she asked.

Lucifer looked around, his gaze growing increasingly frustrated.

“Lucifer,” she tried again. “What’s wrong?”

Children were screaming around the pier, people crying out, but it was all in joy, for fun. Nothing was wrong at all except…

“Where’s the blood angel?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter includes torture. be warned.

Lilith guided Aziraphale to an empty building a few blocks away. Once inside she dropped his hand and lead him in.

“Do you know what demonsteel is, Aziraphale?”

The angel followed her, a bad feeling centering in his chest, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. On his way into the building, he touched the doorframe, adding just a hint of power in an attempt to make it divinely conspicuous. He hoped that Lucifer would be able to sense it. Lilith had been created mortal, but millenia of birthing demons had obviously given her some power. He just wasn't sure how much. She didn’t react to the small surge of magic, but it was hard to say if she could sense it.

“I do,” he replied carefully, following her. “A wound from a weapon of demonsteel will heal at a mortal rate. If killed by one, its a true death and not just discorporation.”

Lilith led him into a large room, empty except for the table at the center. Crowley was laid out upon it like a sacrifice, red cloth binding him at the wrists, ankles, and throat. The demon stared blankly up at the ceiling, seemingly unaware of them. Lilith circled the table, putting Crowley between them.

Aziraphale squared his shoulders. “I’m here now. You can let him go.”

“Not just yet. There’s a lot you would do for him.”

“Lilith,” Aziraphale said softly. “I don’t understand what it is that you need, but please don’t hurt Crowley.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, stroking the red hair. “I’m rather fond of him. You, on the other hand…”

Aziraphale was a little surprised. “What is it you would like for me to do?”

She favored him with a dark, vicious smile. “Suffer.”

He didn’t understand her animosity or her goal, but she obviously had both. The talk regarding the demonsteel had made him nervous. “I suppose you have something in mind then?”

“Indeed,” she purred. She cocked her head, dark eyes dark. “You watched as God cast me into Hell and did nothing.”

He frowned, taken aback. “I… well, yes. I suppose that is correct.”

“You did nothing,” she affirmed with a snarl. She circled the table, dragging fingertips over the bound demon. “I can’t punish God, but you are conveniently here. I also can’t cast you into Hell. I do, however, have other options.” From her back, she pulled two curved daggers. “You’re going to spread your beautiful wings for me, and then I’m going to cut them off.”

The threat made him freeze in terror, mind almost blanking. There were some beings that retained their divinity without their wings, but Aziraphale wasn’t powerful enough. Cutting off his wings would make him mortal, and the idea made panic surge in his throat. It was a lot for him to try to process. “You hate me so much?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

“You did nothing!” she shouted, leaning across the table. “You knew it was wrong! I am as He made me. What right has He to punish me for it?”

“You are gifted with free will, Lilith, as are all humans.”

“You think its my fault?” Her tone was a low growl. “That I deserved it?”

“No one deserves what you have suffered, but you defied Him. Surely you understood there would be consequences? You witnessed angels Falling from the sky for rebelling.”

“You are defending Him?”

“... I cannot,” Aziraphale said helplessly.

“Do not try to speak sweetly to me, Angel of Eden. Show me your wings or I’ll carve your loved one to pieces.”

He hesitated. “Lilith--”

Lilith stabbed one dagger down into Crowley’s thigh. “Now!”

Crowley screamed, arching on the table as well as he could. He thus far had been unresponsive to the conversation around him. The demon’s sudden agony made something snap in Aziraphale’s mind. Acting on the instincts he was created with, he miracled the red bonds free, jumping the table to take the second dagger. Lilith pulled the blade free from Crowley and darted around the table, pulling the demon to the ground with her. When Aziraphale rounded the divide, he froze.

Crowley was splayed on the floor on his stomach, eyes still blank, body trembling. His wings were out, and Lilith had the left one wrenched up at an awkward angle, the dagger pressed against the joint in his back.

Aziraphale nearly keened, heart hammering in his chest. “Lilith,” he pleaded.

“It's either your wings or his,  _ Angel _ ,” she snarled.

He immediately dropped the dagger. “Please don’t hurt him,” he said, tears pricking his eyes. Where was Lucifer?

“Then kneel.”

Aziraphale fell to his knees, sliding the dagger away from himself.

“Now come here. Crawl.”

It wasn’t far to where she was. Aziraphale had a decent amount of pride for an angel, but there was little he wouldn’t do to protect Crowley while he was helplessly enthralled. He crawled the short distance, then turned at her gesture, presenting his back to her. He could feel her breath against his ear.

“Now show me your pretty wings,” she growled.

He felt frightfully cold, but he was determined to protect his dearest friend. As an angel, he didn’t get the benefit of shock. Despite that, it seemed his movements were distant, careful and deliberate as if wading through syrup. He glanced up, but he knew neither Heaven nor God would stop this. He was making a choice. It was a horrific one that he was having trouble comprehending, but it was his, and he clutched that thought to his chest.

Aziraphale manifested his wings and spread them. He felt a small movement against his leg and glanced down. Crowley was still blank, but the demon’s fingers twitched. Aziraphale extended his senses and could feel Crowley fighting hard against the enchantment he was tightly snared in.

A hand combed through his feathers before tightly grabbing the carpal joint of his left wing and pulling it painfully taut. He felt the press of the blade against his back and closed his eyes.

Then the hand ripped away. Aziraphale felt the slice of the blade against his wing, coverts ripped free from the joint. He cried out in pain, stumbling forward. He turned and stilled, shocked. Lucifer stood there, his eyes burning with fiery rage and white wings spread in wide, horrifying glory. At his feet, Crowley groaned, delirious adoration twisting his face. The demon grasped Lucifer’s Louboutins then crawled up his leg until he clutched at his master’s slender hips, rubbing his face against a thigh.

Lucifer paid the fawning demon no mind. He held a hand out to Aziraphale. Whatever was enthralling Crowley seemed to have no effect on the dazed angel. He numbly took the offered hand and was helped to his feet. Lucifer examined his wing first then caressed his palm. The flesh there had blistered from contact with the demonsteel dagger he had captured.

“Lilith,” he purred. Aziraphale glanced over to see the First Woman sprawled where she’d been thrown, eyes just as helplessly drawn to her king as Crowley. “You have dared lay hands on my Serpent?”

The air around them thickened with brimstone. Aziraphale heard the woman whimper.

“You, a mortal, threaten a principality of God, my little brother, and wound him?”

Aziraphale swayed at the familial claim, feeling dizzy. The amount of power Lucifer was flooding into the room made him feel like he was adrift; only the Devil’s hands caressing his kept him from floating away.

“My king…” Lilith pleaded. Her eyes flicked to Aziraphale desperately. He didn’t know if it was in desperation or rage.

“You will go back to Hell and return to your punishment. For rising above your place, you will endure the Serpent’s venom, and if you ever dare escape again…” His eyes rose from where he’d been tenderly caressing Aziraphale’s hand, gaze full of hellfire, “then I’ll really get angry. Do you understand?”

Lilith wasn’t weak. She was the Mother of Demons, and the power of birthing such a race couldn’t help but seep into the bones and blood of a person. However, she was merely a mortal who had power. The Serpent, Devil, and Principality were power made flesh. Every cell of their beings were etched by God’s hands and imbued with the perfect knowledge of their purpose by Goddess. Her enchantment over Crowley was broken, and while her command of temptation was impressive, Lucifer was the living embodiment of Desire. She perhaps would have succeeded had Lucifer not arrived, but she was now helplessly overpowered.

Aziraphale looked away as she debated her options, focusing on keeping his legs under him. A distant part of him was alarmed by how cold he still felt. He was no longer concerned by her threat; now that Crowley was free, Aziraphale could stop her, knew he could kill her, and also knew he didn’t have to. He would never get the chance before Lucifer ripped her apart. Of the three divine beings, Aziraphale was the fighter, but the list of what he was willing to do was far shorter than the two demons’.

Aziraphale took a moment to look down at Crowley. The demon was purring, nestled against his king, his entire focus centered on Lucifer. His desire was palpable, even as the wound in his thigh bled freely. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was possible to discorporate from blood loss, but Crowley was starting to look pale. He also wasn’t sure that he would be able to rise again should he sink to his knees but the urge to protect, almost covetous in its nature, flared. His knees hit the concrete hard as he pulled off his bow tie and miracled it longer in order to treat the wound. If Crowley felt any pain, he showed no sign of it.

Lucifer stepped forward between them, his primaries caressing both of the lesser immortals almost possessively as he stalked toward Lilith. Aziraphale focused on his task, but then finger carded through his hair and he looked up in surprise. He’d rather expected Crowley to remain blank and obedient when out from Lucifer’s touch, but that desire was instead turned on him. The sycophantic adoration was gone, but it was replaced by something heavier, complex and scintillating. Crowley’s hand cupped his head then pulled him up, guiding him forward hungrily.

Aziraphale’s hands shot up, catching Crowley gently by the sides of his throat and stopping the forward motion with only a scant inch of space between them. He blinked, struggling between the cold numbness and strangely bashful surprise. He was certainly not enjoying the emotional rollercoaster the last two days had been.

“Angel,” Crowley begged breathlessly against his lips, the hot desire in his eyes a startling thing. For one exciting moment, Aziraphale felt his fingers twitch to release the demon, to give up and let him do as he will.

“Crowley,” Lucifer interrupted, making Aziraphale start. They both turned their heads, and the angel nearly collapsed as he remembered where he was and what was happening. Lilith was on the floor, unconscious but unharmed, and Lucifer was watching both of them with interest. “Tempting an angel; well done. Very few can manage that. Unfortunately, you need to come with me to return Lilith back to Hell.”

It was hard to describe the sound that came from Crowley’s throat. It was pleading, almost desperate, and so distracting that Aziraphale was sorely tempted to give the demon whatever he wanted that badly. Lucifer merely tutted.

“I know, pet,” he crooned. “I promise that you can play with your angel later. But you were instrumental in Lilith’s escape so you have to help me put her back, else I’d be forced to punish you for it.” He held out his hand to the demon.

Crowley didn’t protest again. As he moved, half crawling and half sliding, his body shifted and elongated until the enormous Serpent slithered up his master’s form. Lucifer bent and picked up Lilith then looked at Aziraphale. “Right. Back in a tick.” He raised his powerful wings, then one hard flap had them all gone.

Aziraphale remained kneeling, staring off at where they’d been. Distantly, he felt the tips of his wings slide across the floor, his body filled with both a riot of emotions and a disconcerting emptiness. He closed his eyes, floating in that numb place and now cut adrift, feeling the pain in his left wing as a distant, throbbing thing.

“Aziraphale?”

His wings arched and flared, puffing at the new threat. He was up with the discarded dagger back in his hand before his mind caught up with the sight of Decker. She had scrambled back a few steps, her hand on her gun even as she held out the other in a pacifying gesture. Her eyes wide at the massive divine threat display. “Wow,” she breathed, then her eyes went to his face. They were filled with so much warmth and compassion that he suddenly wasn’t strong enough to see. His wings sagged and eyes closed, the dagger again falling from unfeeling fingertips.

Arms went around him, holding him up. Fingers stroked his hair, his feathers. She murmured to him about a car and helped him to fold his wings away. When he was finally able to rouse himself from his strange stupor, he saw that they were just pulling up to Lux.

Decker looked at him. “Are you okay?”

Aziraphale took stock for a moment. He was in pain and still strangely numb, but less so than before. “Yes, of course,” he said. It had to be true.

She didn’t seem convinced. “Your hands are shaking.”

“I do feel just a bit cold,” he admitted as he studied the faint tremor.

“Sounds like shock.”

“Oh, no,” he said with a hollow laugh. “I can’t. I’m an angel.”

Decker’s eyes were full of understanding. “An angel who had to make a very difficult and traumatic decision.” Before he could protest, she grasped his forearm gently. “Let’s go upstairs.”

One they reached the penthouse, Decker guided him over to the couch. “Try to get some rest. I’d let you take Lucifer’s bed but trust me, you don’t want to touch it. There are a billion possible ways he’d react to that and joining you is not the least likely.”

A smile flickered across Aziraphale’s lips. “I can’t imagine. The sofa is fine.” He sat down and removed his coat, folding it over before setting it aside and removing his shoes. She gave him a gentle smile of her own.

“Get some sleep.”


	9. Chapter 9

Aziraphale did not sleep, of course. It had never interested him and he was far too tense to attempt it just then. However, he did need to rest. The last two days had been extremely taxing, and the memory of kneeling helplessly at Lilith’s feet, her hand on his wing, made him tremble. Perhaps worse were her accusations. He didn’t know how to feel about them. He hadn’t agreed with her damnation, but also hadn’t known the details of her punishment in Hell. It was horrific, and he wasn’t not one bit surprised by her hunger for vengeance. He hadn't, however, the faintest idea of what he could have done differently. Her hatred made him feel small and helpless, guilty even, but try as he might, he truly couldn’t conceive of how he might have helped her.

He laid still on the couch, easily sliding into slow and measured breathing, letting his thoughts rattle around in his mind. Hopefully the rest would give him perspective. To his surprise, he felt Decker sit down by his head. He considered speaking, to ask her what was wrong, but he heard the clicking steps of heels against the tile.

“Hey,” Decker said softly, sounding surprised. “You should go home.”

“Is Crowley okay?” Aziraphale recognized Linda’s voice.

“He was injured but he’s okay. He and Lucifer are taking Lilith back to Hell.”

Linda let out a breath in relief. “How’s Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale felt Decker move slightly. “Not sure. If he was human, I’d say he was in shock, but he assured me he’s not.”

Linda sat on the ottoman across from them. “What happened?” she asked as the elevator doors opened. Aziraphale could sense Mazikeen as Decker explained.

“Lilith tried to cut off his wings?” Mazikeen asked, leaning against the back of the couch.

“But Lucifer has cut off his wings before,” Linda said, confused.

It was only because he was so relaxed that Aziraphale didn’t stiffen at that revelation. Decker did instead. “What?”

“Lucifer is different,” Mazikeen explained. “He is one of the First and considered a child of God and Goddess. Those first angels are practically cornerstones of reality. They cannot become mortal. Lesser angels like Crowley and Aziraphale can.”

“What about you?” Linda asked.

Mazikeen shrugged. “No wings, no soul. Not possible.”

Before anyone could speak further, there was a powerful downstroke from the balcony.

“Well, well,” Lucifer purred, moving into the room. “Quite a ladies’ ma--”

“Shh!” Both Decker and Linda hushed Lucifer. Aziraphale guiltily considered speaking up but Decker’s fingers stroked through his hair again, as if trying to soothe his sleep.

“Did you just hush me?” Lucifer sounded affronted. There was another sound, one Aziraphale couldn’t quite place, then Linda yelped.

“Holy shit! That is… that… big snake,” she panted.

“He’s asleep?” Crowleyrasped, his voice the sibilant whisper of his serpent form. He sounded surprised. The slide of scaly flesh against cloth became more pronounced.

“And it talks,” Linda wheezed.

“She’s gone then?” Mazikeen asked, voice hard.

“Back snug in Hell where she belongs,” Lucifer said happily.

“Can we talk about the snake?” Linda asked, voice high and thready.

“It’s Crowley, Linda,” Decker said. “Serpent of Eden, remember? He won’t eat you.”

“Unless you ask nicely,” Mazikeen purred.

“That snake? I thought that was Lucifer.”

Said Devil sighed. “Why does everyone think that?”

Aziraphale heard the rustle of flared wings and a gasp from Linda. “What did you do?” Crowley hissed, back in his humanoid form. Before Aziraphale could react, he heard the sound of a body hitting the floor even as Mazikeen jumped the couch.

Suddenly terrified for his friend, Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open. He launched himself up from the couch and found one of Mazikeen’s daggers at his throat and Decker’s gun out and aimed. Not far, Lucifer stood, dark eyes glimmering as he focused on Aziraphale. Once again, Crowley was at his feet. The Devil had his hand buried in the demon’s red hair, merely touching rather than grasping. Crowley was kneeling, delirious at the attention, clawed hands and black wings hanging limply. There wasn’t an ounce of resistance in his lax form, even as he rolled his head slightly to look at his liege, open adoration and desire painting his face.

Aziraphale released a slow breath. He spread his hands, making sure Mazikeen could see them. It was painful to watch Lucifer consume Crowley’s will, but the Devil had saved them from Lilith so he was owed some courtesy. “There appears to be a misunderstanding.”

“You think?” Mazikeen snarled.

Decker let out a breath and lowered her gun. “What the Hell, Aziraphale? Were you awake this entire time?”

“My apologies, Det. Decker, but I  _ was _ resting. I simply wasn’t sleeping.” Aziraphale looked to Lucifer. “I would be grateful if you would release him now.”

Lucifer cocked his head, but then he also raised his hand and moved away from Crowley. As Mazikeen lowered her dagger, Crowley blinked slowly, then more firmly. He bristled and whirled around. When he saw Aziraphale, he sank to sit on the floor, head in his hands.

“I need a holiday,” he muttered.

Aziraphale moved to him. “Are you alright, my dear?”

“Fine, Angel. I hate it when he does that.”

“I don’t think anyone truly likes it,” Lucifer commented idley, seating himself on the couch.

“Alright,” Decker interrupted. “Humans are confused. What just happened?”

Lucifer just waved a hand vaguely. It was Crowley who answered. “He’s my master,” Crowley said, looking up at them, Aziraphale standing like an awkward sentinel a step back. “Like it or not, he’s the King of Hell and Lord over all the Fallen. The Lilim, born demons like Mazikeen, they are born to obey the king, but we are not. When we Fell, God gave Lucifer the ability to command us through his power over desire, leaving us as obedient thralls. If I’m being honest, he doesn’t use it often.”

“Well, of course not,” Lucifer scoffed. “It erases your will, which defeats the point of Hell. I’m not interested in sycophants who don’t truly want to be there. That’s more of Dad’s thing, not mine. Today, it was the easiest way to control the situation.”

“Crowley,” Linda finally spoke up, her voice gentle. “This started because you thought Aziraphale was asleep. Can you tell us why?”

“He doesn’t sleep,” the demon replied.

Linda blinked. “Ever?”

“We don’t need sleep,” Aziraphale explained. “Nor eat, drink, breathe…”

“But Lucifer--” Decker started.

Crowley interrupted. “We only do it because we like it. We don’t have a sex drive either. Lucifer really shouldn’t be your standard of normal behavior. At any rate, in the six thousand years I’ve known Aziraphale, he has never slept. He prefers to spend the time reading, so when you told me he was sleeping--”

“You thought something was wrong,” Linda concluded.

“I thought Mazikeen had done something.”

“But why?” she asked. “Neither Maze or Lucifer have hurt you.”

“We’ve come to expect it when dealing with the Home Offices,” Aziraphale answered.

“Rather comes with the whole ‘botched execution’ territory,” Crowley added.

There was a stunned silence. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘botched execution’?” Linda asked, incredulous.

“Who tried to execute you?” Decker snapped.

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced at each other, then the angel pointed up while the demon pointed down. Both humans turned and glared at Lucifer.

“Don’t look at me!” he said, affronted. “I didn’t approve this.”

“Crowley was given a farce of a trial,” Aziraphale continued. “He was forced into a bath of holy water. Beelzebub themself oversaw it.”

Crowley snorted. “At least I got a trial. Gabriel told Aziraphale to, and I quote, ‘shut up and die already’ then forced him to walk into hellfire.”

“What?” Linda breathed, sounding shocked.

Decker was equally stunned. “Why would they do that?”

Both angel and demon looked at her. “Because we helped to save the world,” Aziraphale answered.

Crowley jerked his thumb up at the angel. “Aziraphale tricked Gabriel and Beelzebub into leaving the Antichrist alone after he decided to end the Apocalypse.”

“It was not a trick but a genuine question,” Aziraphale said primly. “Crowley, however, bought us a moment by taking us outside of time so that we might help the Antichrist protect himself against his father’s wrath.”

“That would be you,” Crowley added, pointedly looking at Lucifer.

“So both of our sides condemned us to death,” the angel finished.

“How did you survive?” Mazikeen asked curiously. “Hellfire and holy water are lethal to you guys.

Both the angel and demon merely looked at her, silent.

“That's not really important,” Decker said. She looked over at Lucifer. “You really didn’t approve this?”

“Well, I can’t speak for Heaven of course, but I most certainly did not approve Crowley’s trial. I was angry, but only because dear old Dad manipulated us all again with that stupid prophecy. Crowley is useful. I would never have commanded his execution. Besides, being erased from existence is hardly a suitable punishment.”

“Erased from existence!” Linda seemed to be having trouble coming to terms with everything.

“Well, yeah,” Mazikeen said. “Angels and Fallen have souls, so when their body dies, they are sent back to wherever they came from. But holy water and hellfire destroys the soul. It’s like if I die, not having a soul, there is nothing left after death.”

Aziraphale licked his lips nervously. “Are you…” He had to clear his throat. “Are you saying you didn’t know? That it wasn’t sanctioned?”

“You mean does God want you dead?” Lucifer clarified. Aziraphale actually flinched, which gave the Devil pause.

Decker rounded on him. “What is actually wrong with you?”

“You want the list chronological or alphabetical?” Crowley asked dryly. Linda made a sound like she couldn’t agree more.

Lucifer rolled his eyes but then faced Aziraphale seriously. “Do you want me to get it cleared up? I can probably get Amenadiel down here.”

With only the slightest hesitation, Aziraphale shook his head. “Best not.”

“What, and stay banished from the Silver City?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “I’ve never seen the Silver City.”

Even Crowley turned to stare at him, taken aback. “What? Not once?”

“I take it back,” Decker said. “Whatever is wrong with you, Heaven is definitely worse.”

“I thought the Silver City  _ was _ Heaven,” Linda commented. “How can an angel have never been there?”

Aziraphale seemed rather uncomfortable with the scrutiny, taking a slight step back. “Not exactly. The Head Office is in Heaven of course, but is not considered part of the City itself.” He glanced down at Crowley. “You have, then?”

Crowley seemed hesitant. “It was a very long time ago.”

“Wait,” Decker said, rubbing her temples. “I’m having a hard time here. A Heaven that won’t let an angel in, who tries to execute him for doing the right thing?”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’m afraid I’ve set a rather terrible example for you.”

“You,” she pointed sharply at him, “have done nothing wrong.”

“But I have. I have never seen the Silver City, but you must understand that I have no desire to, either.”

“You don’t?”

“The angels of the lower choirs, such as myself, are stationed on Earth. The middle choirs belong to the stars and beyond. Only the highest angels stay in Heaven. The Silver City is meant for the Almighty and His family and the humans who are His children. Other angels have space there because there is nowhere else, but we have all of Earth. The only reason we should ever go to Heaven is to report in and receive assignments, which is what the Head Office is for.” He looked at the collective shock through the room. “I’m sure its lovely,” he continued, “But there are many lovely things on Earth.”

Decker and Linda exchanged a glance. Mazikeen huffed. “That's lame.”

“It’s not like the Fallen are allowed in most of Hell,”Aziraphale protested stiffly.

“It’s not their home, Prince; it’s a prison. They are being punished.

“And every one of us have been to the Silver City,” Crowley said softly.

“Do you really expect better from my Father?” Lucifer scoffed, glancing at Crowley. “This is just like Him.”

“I thank you not to speak of this like a banishment.” Aziraphale was deeply uncomfortable. He had never questioned his exclusion from the City; he’d never cared. It was just the way things were.

“You  _ are _ banished,” Mazikeen pointed out.

“And why should humans be allowed into the Silver City while you’re not?” Lucifer asked, aggravated. “You spend the whole of your existence guiding them, helping them into God’s perfect kingdom that you yourself are forever denied?”

“Lucifer,” Linda tried to interrupt.

“No thank you, Doctor. This is just like dear old Dad, to manipulate others into giving what they themselves can never have. I tell you, little brother, your exile may be worse than mine. At least I know that I'm not wanted.”

Aziraphale had heard enough. He backed away from Crowley, moving toward the hall.

“Lucifer!” Decker snapped. She rose and gently caught the angel’s arm. “Aziraphale, wait. I’m sure you’re tired but you should at least have your wing looked at.”

“What’s wrong with his wing?” Linda asked, obviously concerned.

Aziraphale hesitated, trying to breathe through his rush of emotions. He knew that, if he admitted to an injury, they would insist on examining the wound. It was noble of them, but he was not in the mood to be further fussed over. Everything was too much, too overwhelming. “It is unimportant,” he tried.

“A wound from demonsteel is hardly unimportant,” Lucifer commented. “Especially at the base of your wing.”

He’d forgotten Lucifer had examined his wound at the warehouse. “It will heal,” he insisted.

“It will not.”

“It will,” Mazikeen interrupted. Aziraphale as rather surprised to have her take his side. “It will heal slowly, but it will heal, and an angel can’t get an infection. Of course, his feathers might heal into the wound and the scarring could cripple his wing, but that’s his problem, right?”

He blinked at her cool, challenging stare. He struggled for a moment, not wanting to back down, needing time to clear his head. He should have known better than to think she’d be supportive. He felt Decker gently squeeze his arm in an attempt to be supportive. Finally, he looked back at Mazikeen in resignation and she firmly pointed at the ottoman.

“Sit.”

Aziraphale silently obeyed, only a little uncomfortable as she stalked around the couch to his back, like a predator sizing him up. There was silence for a moment, then, “Well?”

He hesitated, struggling against the feeling of vulnerability, then spread his wings. Almost immediately he flinched as the feathers of his left wing pulled, not allowing him to open it. He glanced back to see it gummed up with dried blood, caked in where it had flowed from the slice across the top of his wing’s shoulder. He couldn’t see it well, but it looked rather gruesome.

“Well, he’s definitely wounded.” Aziraphale felt Mazikeen’s strong fingers poke at his wing, up at the carpal joint where Lilith had held him. It was itchy, but it didn’t hurt.

“I believe Lilith simply pulled some feathers out when Lucifer grabbed her,” hesaid softly.

“It’s healed now, through you may want to groom the new growth later. I can’t get to your shoulder without cleaning it up.”

“Hot water and a cloth should help,” Linda suggested, heading toward the bar.

Mazikeen snorted. “Yeah, you couldn’t pay me enough.”

Decker seemed surprised. “It’s not like you to shy away from blood.”

“I’ll play with his wing to check the wound, but I’m not grooming it.” She shuddered as if disgusted.

“It's a very personal thing,” Aziraphale explained.

Decker frowned, considering the situation. “But you can’t reach it.”

Aziraphale glanced at the blood-caked wing. She was right; he wouldn’t be able to do it himself and he didn’t want anyone else to, not with an audience. His wings hadn’t been groomed by someone else since probably the flood. He looked back at Crowley, expression not quite begging.

It didn’t take much convincing. Crowley didn’t seem to like the situation any more than he did. He lifted his hand with a snap and the blood caking Aziraphale’s feathers was gone. All that was left was a two inch strip coating the wound itself.

Decker and Linda stared even as Mazikeen rose, looking a little impressed. “How…” Linda started.

“Crowley can perform bonafide miracles,” Mazikeen answered, taking the moist towel from her. She pressed the heat against the caked blood to loosen it.

“It’s just… aren’t angels supposed to do that?” Decker asked.

Mazikeen glanced at her, amused. “You do recall Crowley is a Fallen angel?”

“Lucifer can’t do that,” Linda spoke up, sounding very sure.

“Lucifer is one of the First,” Crowley replied. “Their power is absolute, but only in one area. They don’t have miracles.”

Mazikeen carefully cleaned the wound, picking feathers out of it. While she did so, Decker stepped around to study Aziraphale’s face. “How are you holding up?”

Aziraphale flashed her a weak smile. “I’ll be fine, Det. Decker.”

In truth it hurt, but while he certainly didn’t enjoy pain, it didn’t bother him much either. It probably had something to do with his design as a soldier.

Once Mazikeen finished cleaning it, Lucifer came over to do what he could to close it. It was the third time he had touched Aziraphale, and his fingers felt just as intimate on his wing as they had on his hand. It was unnerving and Aziraphale wanted to jerk away from the Devil’s hands in his feathers, but then Mazikeen caught his attention. She had circled around in front of him and, with a challenging smirk, began to lick Aziraphale’s blood off of her fingers.

Decker and Linda complained in the background, but Aziraphale held her gaze calmly, answering her challenge. He was pretty sure that Mazikeen wouldn’t be hard-pressed to kill him if what Crowley said of her was true, but it was distracting him from the burn in his wing and unwanted hands on him as Lucifer worked. He was also suspected that was what Mazikeen was aiming for, but he wasn’t entirely sure. As it had been pointed out to him, a demon like her would probably enjoy corrupting an angel.

When Lucifer released his wing, Aziraphale looked away with a small breath and carefully flexed.

“It’s not quite as far along as Crowley’s stab wound,” Lucifer said, brushing his hands together. “Angels aren’t meant to heal from it. You’ll also have a scar to impress all your admirers with.”

Aziraphale folded his wings away with a rather pointed look of disapproval. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what would impress them, should there be any.” He rose, but Lucifer caught his bicep, keeping him close.

“It’s been a long night and I don’t know about you, little brother, but I’d like to get properly soused.”

Aziraphale glanced down at the hand on him, a bit startled. He was tired of being touched. “No thank you?” He was rather unsure if it was an offer.

“The oath, Aziraphale. Release it.”

“Oh!” It had been a long day and he’d forgotten that he held Lucifer’s pleasures captive. He considered refusing but dismissed the idea quickly. He was too overwhelmed and exhausted to gain the Devil’s further ire. Besides, it hadn’t really been Lucifer’s fault anyway. Aziraphale tried to pull his arm away, to straighten his suit, but Lucifer kept his grip and gave him a dazzling, sharp smile. The angel huffed. 

“Yes, yes. Lucifer Morningstar, I release you from your oath.” When Lucifer’s smile widened into a grin, he continued. “However, since our deal is now broken, you will be sending us home today.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it? Try to do a good thing and it's like bloody pulling teeth.” He wandered to the bar to pour himself a drink.

“It’s fine,” Linda assured them. “It’s just three now; I have an appointment at ten. Get some rest and I’ll be by after I see my client. We’ll take you to the airport afterwards. Alright?”

Aziraphale and Crowley glanced at each other, both wondering what the damned secret was. Really, it hadn’t been clear until then that she wanted anything to do with them, even though Lucifer said he’d summoned them for her. Regardless, it seemed unlikely Lucifer would let them go before he got what he wanted and trying to escape would annoy everyone. Charming or not, Lucifer was still the King of Hell and made it perfectly clear he could handle Crowley.

“Not like we have a choice,” Crowley finally answered.

“Well… I mean, you do,” Linda tried correcting.

“They really don’t,” Mazikeen affirmed with a smirk.

For one moment, Aziraphale wondered if Linda was actually going to become cross. Then she expelled a hard breath. “I’ll see you after my appointment,” she said and turned to the door.

Aziraphale looked at Lucifer. “Is there somewhere we can rest? A hotel room?”

Lucifer gestured down the hall. “There’s a room down there. I don’t usually have many guests, but I’m sure you’ll make do.” The implication that guests usually stayed in Lucifer’s bed was fairly obvious. No one chose to comment on it.

Aziraphale assisted Crowley up off the floor and down the hall. Walking was obviously painful for the serpent and while he had suffered worse with a smile, there was no reason to when Aziraphale was perfectly willing to assist.

The room turned out to be storage without a bed in sight. Aziraphale’s eyes closed. It almost looked like the angel might cry, but then his expression hardened with resolution. A gesture had a bed that was wide enough for the two to sleep on, complete with Crowley’s favorite black silk sheets.

“Unless you’d rather two beds?” he asked, sounding almost nervous.

Crowley snorted and eased himself down. “There’s hardly room for one.” He glanced up at Aziraphale who, even through his exhaustion, was nervously wringing his hands. “I can be a snake if you’d like.”

The wringing stopped with the angel’s fond smile. “Lovely as that may be, do whichever is most comfortable for you. I’m afraid I might not even manage sleep. I haven’t much practice at it, you know.”

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to come over. He helped the angel out of his waistcoat and pulled off his own jacket to lay on his side, letting his wounded leg rest on top. Aziraphale settled beside him, the two facing each other with a safe distance between them.

“I’m so sorry, my dearest,” Aziraphale murmured, voice pained. “Lilith hurt you because of me.”

“Then you nearly let her cut off your wings,” Crowley said, his expressive mouth hard with pent up frustration.

“I’d do it again before I’d even let her cut off yours.”

Crowley’s stare was hard from behind the glasses but then he sighed, releasing his tension like a snake uncoiling. “You’re so blessedly frustrating sometimes. Go to sleep.”

Aziraphale watched him for a moment but then sighed and closed his eyes. It wasn’t like he’d enjoyed the choice, but he could no more let someone hurt Crowley than he knew Crowley would let someone hurt him. He hoped the demon understood that. After a moment, he felt the slightest brush of Crowley’s knuckles against his where his hand was curled near his face in the No Man’s Land between them. It eased the final tension in him and he quickly faded into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Aziraphale was the first to wake up, unused to sleeping. He slowly blinked, feeling both rested and strangely groggy, heavy with the remnants of sleep. After a moment, he was finally able to take in the sight before him. He sighed softly, his entire being flushed with love as he watched the slumbering demon. The glasses had been set aside, Crowley’s face gentled with sleep, their hands so close together they were nearly touching in the gulf of space between them. It was peaceful and still.

Then Lucifer walked in.

“Come on, chaps, up and at it. Dr. Linda will be here soon.” He paused, studying the two. Aziraphale had bolted upright while Crowley tumbled to the floor once startled awake. “You might want to consider showering.”

“Lucifer!” Decker was aghast in the doorway. She looked like she was going to explode from his audacity as he slipped by her, walking away. She followed, hissing at him.

Aziraphale and Crowley just stared at the open door, stunned. “I think I actually hate him,” the angel murmured.

“You don’t hate anything,” Crowley replied. “But don’t worry; I hate him enough for the both of us.”

Once they had made themselves presentable, they went to the living room where Decker was practically looming over a pouting Lucifer.

“Breakfast should be here soon,” the Devil said, sulking.

“And?” she prompted.

“What’s the big deal? They were clothed and practically adorable. It was rather disappointing.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“You thought so too! Not the disappointing part, though you should. A little morning excitement would certainly make this whole thing far more palatable.”

That brought Decker up short and she blushed furiously, with Crowley, strangely, as a close second. Aziraphale just sighed, as if Lucifer could no longer shock him.

“Have arrangements been made for our trip home after Dr. Martin’s explanation?”

Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. “Of course, but I think you’re going to like this, particularly Aziraphale.”

One eyebrow arched primly over blue eyes. “I dare say you do not know me well enough to hazard a guess of what might please me.”

“You’re lived in the same bookshop for over two hundred years. You’re sentimental, little brother.”

Fortunately, before Aziraphale could do more than frown, the elevator opened and delivery persons poured in to lay out breakfast on the bar. Among them was Linda, her eyebrows raised.

“Someone hungry?”

“Just Lucifer saying he’s sorry,” Decker jumped in. “Because he is. Right, Lucifer?”

The brunet was already sucking on a sausage. “Sure,” he said disingenuously.

Linda shook her head. “I don’t want to know.”

Aziraphale’s attention was perked by the food, so he went over and carefully picked through it, serving himself. They all helped themselves, settling down to eat.

“So Doc,” Crowley said, having quickly finished a small helping of eggs and then lingering over coffee, “what is all this about, then?”

Linda seemed hesitant, like she was really unsure where to begin. She considered her words for a moment, staring at the both of them. “Did you really stop the Apocalypse?”

Crowley arched one eyebrow as he and Aziraphale glanced at each other. “Yes?” Aziraphale responded. “Didn’t Lucifer tell you about that?”

“Sort of?”

“It’s not like you to be at a loss of words, Doctor,” Lucifer said with amusement.

“This is really weird, alright?”

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Duke Hastur had the wrong boy at Megiddo,” the Devil purred, dark eyes glittering. “Do you know anything about that?”

Suddenly, not even Aziraphale was eating anymore. No one had ever questioned them on the mix-up since they’d realized their mistake so they hadn’t cooked up an explanation.

“I gave the baby to the nuns,” Crowley said defensively. “That was my job.”

“And when did you know the American Ambassador’s son wasn’t the Antichrist?”

Aziraphale interrupt. “Pardon, but I was under the impression that we are here for Dr. Martin.”

Linda licked her lips, hesitating. “I recently started seeing a new client,” she said. “He had… a rather interesting childhood.”

“What could possibly be interesting about childhood?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale just stared at her. After a moment, he blanched.

“Oh, dear.”

Linda continued. “He lived in England while his father was stationed there as an ambassador.”

It was Crowley’s turn to go pale. “Why are you telling us this?” Aziraphale asked. “Aren’t there rules against it?”

“He told me about his strange childhood, his father and mother and how hard it was for them to be so busy or absent. He said…” Linda hesitated, as if collecting her thoughts. “He also talked about a nanny who told him that he’d rule the world and a gardner who taught him to respect everything on it. He thought it impacted his formative years negatively and I agree.”

Crowley’s lips were thin. “Are you going to scold us? Because we had other things on our minds at the time.”

“When I asked him about the things that made him happiest, he said that his parents often weren’t there for him or didn’t have time for him. What he did have was a nanny who sang to him and a gardner who taught him how to handle wildlife.” She reached into her bag and pulled out two envelopes. “I… told him that I might have some connections, and he wrote these letters. I have his permission to give them to you. Nanny Ashtoreth; Brother Francis.” She held out an envelope to each of them.

Crowley looked like the thing might bite him. Aziraphale was simply puzzled. He took the envelope and opened it, removing the letter and glancing at it. “His penmanship leaves much to be desired,” he murmured even as he was relieved it wasn’t typed. He read the letter through once, gulped, then went back to the first page to take it slower. It was three pages, the lettering small, sharp, and cramped, but the words were precise and educated, and the angel could sense the author’\\\ fondness.

“Anything interesting?” Crowley asked, as if Aziraphale might be able to save him from reading his own correspondence. However, the bright eyes that met his sealed his fate. Crowley took the letter, handling it like it might explode. He unfolded five pages and glanced over the first. Very quickly, his expression settled into shock as he read.

Aziraphale watched Crowley’s face as it crumbled slightly. “He… loves me?” The demon seemed both perplexed and slightly choked up.

“He does?” Lucifer asked, just as bemused.

“Yes, he does,” Linda confirmed. “He adores you both. He said it took him a very long time to understand why his nanny taunted him with horrors and world domination. It wasn’t until he put your lessons together that he learned how to move in the world with unerring confidence and empathy.”

“Why is he being treated by you?” Aziraphale asked.

Linda blinked at him like he was being an idiot. “He was raised by an angel and a demon to end the world. He had to learn how to interpret your lessons into something mundane because he never considered you might be an actual  _ angel _ and  _ demon _ because  _ why would he _ ?” She took a deep breath. “I can definitely say from experience that having such forces influence your life takes a lot of help processing. I can’t even say that it's easier to know the truth because its not.”

“Couldn’t you have sent these by the post?”

“I wasn’t going to give them to you at all, even once I found out I could. This was all Lucifer’s idea.”

All eyes focused on him. Lucifer looked unrepentant. “What? It was a delightful read, wasn’t it?”

“Lucifer, you freed Lilith,” Decker said, exasperated.

“Did not. She escaped.”

Crowley just buried his face into his hands.

“May we finally go home now?” Aziraphale asked plaintively.

“Well, you’re going to write Warlock back, right?” Decker said.

It was her turn to get all the attention. “Whatever for?” Lucifer asked.

“Seriously?”

“I suppose it would be polite,” the angel said, studying his letter a bit awkwardly.

“Wh- oh- sure, and say what, Angel?” Crowley scoffed. “‘Hello, pet. Nice to hear from you. Just a job, you know how it is. Stop being such a fine gent and live a little. Kisses, Nan’?”

“Is that really all you have to say?”

“It was just a job. It would be for a real nanny too.”

“You were his real nanny!”

“Guys!” Linda interrupted. “You don’t have to reply immediately, or even at all if you don’t want to. He already knows that is possible.”

“Won’t he be upset?” Aziraphale asked.

“That’s why he has me,” she replied.

They both considered the letters for a long moment.

“Listen,” Decker said softly, “It’s been a crazy couple of days and you probably have jet lag from Hell.” She hesitated, eyes darting to Lucifer. “Sort of. Anyway, we should get you to the airport and you can consider your responses, alright? Like Linda said, it’s not necessary to reply immediately.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the goal is revealed! I have to say, that whole plot in the center was not planned out when I started to write this. It was supposed to be just a fun little thing. Lilith kind of plotus interruptus.
> 
> For those who may be unfamiliar with the prompt, this is the post of tumblr: https://goldenwatcher.tumblr.com/post/185853799646/sometimes-i-just-sit-and-think-about-how


	11. Chapter 11

Linda leaned back in her office chair, eyes focused at the ceiling as the events of the day rolled through her mind. Things had settled down recently, as much as they ever had anyway. Lucifer had been by earlier, grossly misunderstanding her suggestions as usual. He had a true gift for hearing what he wanted when other people spoke. Other than that and drinks with the girls, things had been quiet.

They had accidentally let slip Crowley and Aziraphale’s visit around Ella, leaving Decker and Linda scrambling to explain while Mazikeen snickered. Calling Crowley Lucifer’s cousin had been painful, but perhaps less so than using the term to describe Aziraphale. He had, by unspoken decision, become Crowley’s husband. Linda wasn’t really sure it was a lie.

She was startled into sitting up by her cell phone ringing and answered it with a quick hello.

“Doc! Long time no talk! Feels like… wow, has it only been a week?”

“Crowley?” Linda asked, stunned. “How did you get my number?”

“Miraculous, isn’t it?” he said smugly. “Listen, I need your advice on something and if you can help Lucifer, you can help me.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, begging for strength. “Okay, first of all, Lucifer pays me. Second, he comes to my office.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening past ‘Okay’.”

“Help with what, Crowley? We’re on opposite sides of the planet.”

“Technically, Portobello, New Zealand is the opposite side of the planet from London.”

“I’m hanging up,” she said curtly.

“I want to write to Warlock.”

Linda hesitated. “I’m listening,” she said slowly.

Crowley was silent for a long moment. “Look, it's not like I had a childhood myself. I can't figure out how someone rationalizes what I said to the kid. He’s under some deluded impression that I was the best thing about being a kid and if there is one thing I know, it’s disappointment. I don’t want to do that to him.”

She considered that for a moment, his words filling in parts of her mental picture of him. “Have you talked to Aziraphale about this?”

The demon snorted. “Nah. I’m not trying to keep secrets, mind, but he’s a bit optimistic and not so helpful at times. I need someone who sees what the problem is.”

“And what’s the problem?”

“He’s not going to rule the world! And that was the basis of our relationship! So how am I supposed to be Nanny without being so… Nanny?”

Linda smiled, pleased. Here was a demon who was, finally, listening. She had no illusions about her success, but Crowley was rather refreshing in his approach. She would never admit it out loud, but she found it adorable how much the demons she knew wanted to do good while denying with every last bone and breath it was what they wanted.

“Alright,” she said. “Grab a pen and paper.”

“Will my phone work?”

“Crowley, you’re using it to talk to me.”

“It can multitask.”

It was going to be a long evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I did writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to let me know if there are any tags that should be added. Story is updated once a week by Friday. Enjoy!!


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